Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. "I know exactly what I have done," replied Spurlock. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
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