Ennison spoke at last. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. She rang again with the same result. They stopped talking, except to each other. “Here, dis is for you. But in doing so, I most likely saved 233 your life.
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