“It was inevitable,” he declared. Our quarrel's quite over. Pig? By George, every one of them looks like the other; and yet each one attacks the source of supply with a squeal and an oof that's entirely different from his brothers' and sisters'. Rummage, my boy, do. Down that on the right the young culprit was dragged—along that on the left a fainting woman was borne in the arms of several females. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must.
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