You must live for me. No, I thank you. Jack, who had formerly been in the custody of both these gentlemen, gave them a very cordial welcome; apologized for the sorry room he was compelled to receive them in; and when they took leave, insisted on treating them to a double bowl of punch, which they were now discussing with the upper jailer, Mr. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. What his head conceived his hand executed. “I mean to,” she replied. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue.
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