" "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. "Ay. “You love some one else?” he repeated. CHAPTER XVIII. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. "I declare you throw me into an ague. Did he like freaks? She opened her black umbrella, her giant sun deflector. This is not what I want. "But, pardon my intrusion.
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