"It is the voice of inspiration," said Thames; "and I receive it as a solemn command. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. The door of cabin 2 was open. Glorious! The Pastoral. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. “No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly.
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