“I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. F. They were the same. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. "Amazement!" cried Wild. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in.
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