Suppose our proper place is a shrine. "It was given me by poor dear Mrs. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. Wood. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. He had an objective now. It would be very hard perhaps to make you understand just how I feel about it. She found next morning, when she came to this advertisement answering, that it was more difficult than she had supposed. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. But there were two places of punishment which merit some notice from their peculiarity. "This is your work," said the knight, sternly. " "Mr.
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