You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. Senior year started with a whimper. ‘But you are idiot. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. .
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