But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. Terence, meanwhile, who had followed him, did not remain silent, but recapitulated his story, for the benefit of Mrs. “You know—,” said Mr. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. He was angry. It is you who took my name, not I yours. She remained standing stiffly, unable even to move. I sha'n't cry any more. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
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