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"Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!" "True," replied Jack, sternly; "but we have our uncle to avenge. "I must see him to-night. He donned his winter coat. " Thames was about to reply, but a glance from Wood checked him. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Afterward goes on to Oxford. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. Them young prigs is all alike. The boy’s besotted. ‘What a catalogue.

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