If a certain kink in your sense of honour will not permit you to go to her as a lover, go to her as a comrade. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. Surely she could ignore him. "That's it!"—eagerly. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood.
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