It was good to kiss you, even at the price. "Like master like man," observed Jack as he rolled the inanimate body to the side of the road. " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. “I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit.
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