What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. But I don’t suppose you can understand. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, "did you kill him?" "Not quite," replied Terence, laughing; "but I brought him to his senses. However this may be now, it was unquestionably true of old Newgate. You cannot arrest yourself. Pistols and pictures? Now it fair goes agin’ me nature to act rough with a lady, but you’ll come along of me at once. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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