Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. Lucy trudged upstairs behind 258 him and he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about this evening. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight.
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