She glanced at him. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. The young lady I was with is not married at all. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. I went to her rooms to-night.
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