" "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. He grew even harder. In vain Wood protested his innocence. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. " "'Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. CHAPTER X.
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