"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. The theme was a masquerade. Then Mike came along. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. \"Do not tell me that you have not asked her yet, fool, or I will be forced to dump the rest of that soda over your head. You shall tell me if I am wrong. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t.
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