I felt somehow I’d hurt you. . It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. John looked at his feet bashfully. The forgiveness and reconciliation was a cold and formal affair, and afterwards her father went off gloomily to his study, and Mr. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. Regardless as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes,) of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs.
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