She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. We want it badly at the present time. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night.
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