a soft heart? But probably you haven't got one, for it is not a feminine attribute. But for a man it is terrible; it robs him of the most thrilling joys of life."
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly sympathetically.
"Now you saw last night that I had promised myself the pleasure of continuing the work of the parents of the Lion of Montevideo by spoiling him a little more. I was going to spoil his face. Was it not plain—not the face, but my intention?"
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with conviction.
"Well, my soft heart has, as usual, robbed me of a joy; and I have pledged myself to leave his parents' work unfinished."
"Yes, sir," said Pollyooly; and she looked a little disappointed.
"And now of course I am in a hole. The offensive ruffian must be checked; and I can't do it. The only form of remonstrance that sort of a bounder understands is the remonstrance by boot; and I can't remonstrate with him now," he went on, talking to himself, and frowning.
"He does bother the Esmeralda, sir," said Pollyooly.
