"Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. I felt suddenly I understood you—as an intelligent person. ” He demanded as she opened her eyes and stopped moaning.
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