"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. I defy you to explain it away. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. The Jew swallowed it at a draught. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. The room seemed a vacuum.
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