‘Jacques?’ she called. "You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. You cannot care for her. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. ’ ‘I do not tell you why,’ the lady uttered flatly. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging.
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