" "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. . "Yes, or no?" "I will make no terms with you," rejoined Wild, sternly. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. She laid her hand upon his arm. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. 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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