“There are a good many Whites in London. I hate children. Where's Jonathan?" Inquiries were instantly made after that individual, but he was nowhere to be found. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. "Oh! if I had known this," he exclaimed, "what guilt, what remorse might have been spared me!" "Repentance comes too late when the deed's done," returned Wild, bitterly. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. " Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales.
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