He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. Where is Sir Rowland?" "In the library, your ladyship. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. “I love some one else. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible.
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