“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. “Certainly her voice is far more musical. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. . Kneebone's 346 XIV. “The walk has given me an appetite, and I do not feel like waiting till five o’clock.
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