" "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. “It was inevitable,” he declared. A friend of mine, Ogilvy’—I suppose that’s Ogilvy & Ogilvy, who do so many divorces, Vee?—‘was speaking very highly of it—very highly!’” He smiled into her eyes. I worship you. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. Irreton.
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