‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. "He was thrown overboard, and perished at sea. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. “What can I do?” “Go and see her.
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