" Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. Stop it. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying. The prisoner was then thrust in by Quilt. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside.
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