None this end. " "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. It'll be advertised to-morrow. ‘I wonder why the females of my acquaintance have absolutely no respect whatsoever for male authority?’ ‘Ha!’ came from Hilary. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear. I am not comfortable,’ complained Madame Valade.
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