"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. I was—I was a corespondent. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. "Thinking it likely you might desire to have this information, I prepared accordingly. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. ’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad.
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