" "Only as a brother?" persisted Kneebone. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. She had become neutral towards him and he had used the lesson to try to advance himself. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, "did you kill him?" "Not quite," replied Terence, laughing; "but I brought him to his senses. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. ‘Your niece, ma’am.
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