His eyes were red. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. "I shall value it highly, and will promise never to part with it. ” “It is all the world to me.
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