" "All right, teacher; I'll shave and comb my hair. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. " "With all his cunning, he may meet with his match," continued Kneebone, laughing. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. It did not seem quite fair. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind.
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