To perdition with them all. "Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. She picked up the hand cannon. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. She sighed with relief. She ignored his question.
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