And yet, Spurlock was afraid of the doctor; so was Ruth. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. "You mean, it doesn't matter?" "Poor Hoddy! When you were ill in Canton, out of your head, you babbled words. He had an appointment in Jersey, you know, after he left the army. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts.
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