"What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. This astute personage was somewhat under the middle size, but fairly proportioned, inclining rather to strength than symmetry, and abounding more in muscle than in flesh. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. “Thank you.
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