I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. You’d make a good Devil. A man as rich as you are ought to have a thousand-ton yacht. " "No doubt," rejoined Wild, with a sneer; "but don't let all the world know it.
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