The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep.
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