"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. She was glad to join in the stream of hurrying homeward workers that was now welling out of a thousand places of employment, and to imitate their driven, preoccupied haste. She wrote it down. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. “Well——” She stopped short. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row.
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