ately wilful girl whose love was the first necessity of John Hewett's existence.
"Well," John pursued, reading her features eagerly, "I'll say no more about that, and I won't stand in the way of what you've set your mind on. But understand, Clara, my girl! It's because Sidney persuaded me. Sidney answers for it, mind you that!"
His voice trembled, and he looked at the young man with something like anger in his eyes.
"I'm willing to do that, Mr. Hewett," said Kirkwood in a low but firm voice, his eyes turned away from Clara. "No human being can answer for another in the real meaning of the word; but I take upon myself to say that Clara will bring you no sorrow. She hears me say it. They're not the kind of words that a man speaks without thought of what they mean."
Clara had seated herself by the table, and was moving a finger along the pattern of the dirty white cloth. She bit her under-lip in the manner already described, seemingly
