" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. It’s—it’s a social difference. " "Vouldn't it!" replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; "then shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you. ‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. Spurling has induced him to sit down again. I’ve made up my mind. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. Somehow. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. " "What was it?" "Never glance sideways at a man.
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