The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. "Is it a bargain?" "Take half of my estate—take all—my life, if you will—I am weary of it!" cried Trenchard passionately. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. ’ At last.
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