Beware!"
"I know you, I know you!" was all she could gasp, as she bowed herself
submissive before him. "I detest you, and shall therefore marry you.
Trample upon me!" And he trampled upon her.
CHAPTER V.
Thus BO PEEP lost her sheep, leaving these fleecy tail-bearers to
come home solitary to the accustomed fold. She did but humble herself
before the manifestation of a Wessex necessity.
And Fate, sitting aloft in the careless expanse of ether rolled
her destined chariots thundering along the pre-ordained highways
of heaven, crushing a soul here and a life there with the tragic
completeness of a steam-roller, granite-smashing, steam-fed,
irresistible. And butter was churned with a twang in it, and rustics
danced, and sheep that had fed in clover were "blasted," like poor
BONDUCA's budding prospects. And, from the calm nonchalance of a
Wessex hamlet, another novel was launched into a world of reviews,
where the multitude of readers is not as to their external
displacements, but as to their subjective experiences.
[THE END.
* * * * *
THE NEW GALLERY.
This is the place to see the "female form divine" of all shapes and
sizes. Walk up, walk up, and look at a few of the young Ladies:--
No. 13. "_White Roses._" E.J. POYNTER, R.A. Thorns here, evidently,
judging by the young woman's look of anguish.
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