“You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. And this shall be your diet till you die. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. He beamed as she whispered to 22 him that she had seen a table so fine or tasted such wonders. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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