CHAPTER XVII. It was perfectly legitimate. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. "Before you go, bring me the bottle of pineapple rum I opened yesterday. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. It'll be in your way. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. He made it more and more evident to her that her proper course was not to earn a salary but to accumulate equipment. There's a feather in your cap! No house-breaker was ever so highly honoured before.
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