“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. " "Can you make me honest?" cried Jack. O'Higgins struck a match and lit his Henry Clay, thereby drawing upon himself the mutual disapproval of the spinsters. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. They sold him the whisky. I told her it was the end. Surely Capes was different. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. They walked two by two to the car, looking the part of 267 two weary spouses supporting their drunken mates after an all-night bender.
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