“It was very tiring. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr. I—listen. Ramage,” she said, “please don’t talk like this. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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