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I have not now beside me Howells's "Doctor Breen's Practice." It is a remarkable attempt to do justice to a very difficult subject, for there are two physicians to handle, male and female, not, I think, after their kind. "Doctor Zay," by Miss Phelps, makes absurd a book which is otherwise very attractive.

Only as a last, desperate resource would he lay that fact bare to a man like Arthur Breen, and perhaps not even then. John Breen's word was, or ought to be, sacred enough on which to borrow ten thousand dollars or any other sum. That meant a mortgage on his life until every cent was paid. Do not smile, dear reader. He is only learning his first lesson in modern finance.

I won't quit my job unless you want me to." "Don't," said Hal. "But you won't be bothered with seeing me any more. I'll send you Maggie Breen's letter and the story. I guess I understand a little better now how she felt when she took the poison." With that rankling in his brain, Hal Surtaine sat and pondered in his private study at home.

"Well, out with it! What's it all about, Jack?" "I heard this afternoon that my friend Gilbert was ruined in our office. The presence of these men to-night makes me believe it to be true. If it is true, I want to tell you that I'll never enter the office again as long as I live!" Breen's eyes flashed: "You'll never enter!... What the devil is the matter with you, Jack! are you drunk or crazy?"

Then seeing the shade of disappointment on Breen's face at the flippant way in which he had returned Peter's courtesies, but without understanding the cause, he added, tightening his arm around his friend's neck, "Brace up, Jack, old man, and let yourself go. That's what I'm always telling Jack, Mr. Grayson.

Some of the habitues in the orchestra chairs in Breen's office had cursed loud and deep when they saw their margins melt away; and one or two of the directors had broken out into open revolt, charging Breen with the fiasco, but most of the others had held their peace.

"The ass!" groaned Jim, in a comparatively quiet spell. "Why doesn't he drive more carefully?" "Probably," groaned Denny, "he's doing the best he can." Probably! All that was left them was conjecture. They could only guest at what was happening in the world about them! Matthew Breen's face and body were lost in sheer immensity above them.

He pressed her to allow him to escort her, which was obviously the proper thing. When she refused again, and went off, like any nobody, alone, he returned to his chambers, leaving Rosalie to the unimportant persons whose business it was to look after her. Mrs Breen's house was in East Melbourne, and Deb directed the coachman to drive there first.

Breen's "find" had been too late; taken sick, he had never worked his claim, had barely got back home before he died, and only in time to hand his wife the strange legacy of a roughly scrawled little piece of paper, and Jimmie Dale straightened up alertly once more.

Breen's face flushed hotly, but before he could reply, the captain broke in. "Some mistake, hey?" said he, derisively. "I guess there is another mistake another bluff that don't go. Get out o' here; and I tell you now, blast yer hide, that if you make me any more trouble 'board my ship yer liable to go over the side feet first, with a shackle to yer heels.