"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. ‘You do not think it is enough English. ‘But if you must fight so furiously, I don’t see how I can promise not to do it again. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. ” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game.
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