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I will haf your bromise, your sacred wort of honour, before I will gollaborate again, that you will no more blay with me these farces. I like you, yourself, Armstrong. I am very font of you. I haf a very creat atmiration for your worg. But you haf not been reliaple. You haf no right to resent what I am sayink.
Girl, dear!" murmured the priest anxiously; and "So! so! so!" comforted the little Jewish lady. Cis seemed not to know who was beside her. "He's dead!" she wept. "And it's my fault! All my fault! O-o-o-oh!" A trembling seized her slender body. Once more she swayed, then toppled forward upon the table, all her brown hair falling over her arms. "Vot wass she sayink?" demanded Mrs. Kukor, frightened.
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