"Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. M. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter.
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