By the will of Mr. “Oh, you know,” she said. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. He never finished his sentence. "She is here," cried Jack, darting forward. That was an admission all right. . Her name was Rhea. You might even tire of me by then, you know. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. "Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard.
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