tact, you know. And it was perfectly clear that her quick, spontaneous, practical sympathy had left its mark even on that unpromising subject.
Not such a fool as I thought he was not to have taken this gal off my hands, reflected the Uncompromising Subject within the precints of his bath chair. And then, with the air of one who nurses an injury, he proceeded to inquire of the Seventh Unmarried Daughter—
"Well, Addie my gal, what do you think of the Mésalliance?"
"One doesn't profess to be a judge of chorus girls," said the rude girl, jerking the unfortunate Himalayan Dust Spaniel right off his feet.
Actually rude to her Pa, you see. Really, miss! But are you quite doing her Justice, young friend? says Mr. G-ls-w-thy. Do you think the girl has had fair play? because, frankly, I don't. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth; every whim gratified; never had a soul to cross or deny her; always able to go to the Stores and order what she wanted within reason; never rubbed her shoulders against life in its sterner aspects like your more fortunate heroine; never changed an iota since she used to bully her nurse. Fact is, young friend, says Mr. G-lsw-thy, you can't expect people who have had a plumb wicket to bat on all their born days to play as well as those who have been well
