That he should pay forty pounds to help this girl who preferred another man was no less in his eyes than a fraud and mockery that made her denial a maddening and outrageous disgrace to him. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things.
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