The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. ‘Anyhow, never mind that now. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. “It was very tiring. It is the health of a stranger,—of Mr. I'm hungry. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. ” She spat in his face. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so.
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