” “But how?” He was, she thought, a little too insistent. I swear it. But, perhaps Mr. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. She trembled; but she did not know why. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. Send for Mr. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall.
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