“No: won’t do,” said Artingale, decisively. “Wait a bit, Jemmy, and I’ll hit upon some plan. Unfortunately, we live in these degraded times when that fine old institution the press-gang is no more.”
“This is no time for levity, Harry,” said Magnus, bitterly.
“Levity! My dear boy, my feelings towards that fellow are full of anything but levity. He nearly killed me, and that is no joke; and—oh! horror of horror! I did not expect this—here’s Perry-Morton.”
He was quite right, for the idol of the early masters’ clique was advancing to meet them after failing to see poor Julia, who with throbbing pulses and cheeks now pale, now burning with fever, was sobbing in her sister’s arms.
Part 2, Chapter VI.
Unselfish Proceedings.
“Frightened away? Not a doubt about it,” said Artingale. “I feel as if I had been a martyr, and offered myself up as a sacrifice.”
“Martyr—sacrifice!” cried Cynthia, looking at the speaker keenly, and with her bright little face flushing. “Now, Harry, I’ll never forgive you. I’m sure you’ve been keeping something back. There, see how guilty you look! Oh, shame! shame!”