"It is your son. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly. Your glove will suffice. . . “I doubted my luck, at least. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting. It was so difficult to put precisely. ‘To me, quickly!’ There was a brief hush, and then the shouts resumed and several pairs of feet clattered towards her from, as it seemed, several directions. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. ’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured.
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