" "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. In regard to yourself, you've had a very narrow escape. “Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. Sheppard. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. “You would appear to be trying to destroy a comradeship which has been very, very pleasant. "Now come along, Jack. Mother and Son XI. . We've got to get him to care. .
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