"
"Miss Devlin," laughed I, "you have all the eagerness of the incipient
millionaire. May I hope to see you in Lombard Street some day, a very
Katherine among capitalists?--for, from your remarks, I judge that you
would--I say it pensively--'wade through slaughter to a throne.'"
Galt Roscoe, who was just ahead with Mrs. Revel and Amy Devlin, turned
and said: "Who is that quoting so dramatically? Now, this is a picnic
party, and any one who introduces elegies, epics, sonnets, 'and such,' is
guilty of breaking the peace at Viking and its environs. Besides, such
things should always be left to the parson. He must not be outflanked,
his thunder must not be stolen. The scientist has unlimited resources;
all he has to do is to be vague, and look prodigious; but the parson must
have his poetry as a monopoly, or he is lost to sight, and memory."
"Then," said I, "I shall leave you to deal with Miss Devlin yourself,
because she is the direct cause of my wrong-doing. She has expressed the
most sinister sentiments about Viking and your very extensive parish.
Miss Devlin," I added, turning to her, "I leave you to your fate, and I
cannot recommend you to mercy, for what Heaven made fair should remain
tender and merciful, and--"
"'So young and so untender!'" she interjected, with a rippling laugh.
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