Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. ‘Certainly you are imbecile.
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