We men are like children. He had something across his knees. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. “You poor little girl!” he cried. “She has never 96 once contacted me. He knew not what to say, or what to do; and his confusion was increased by the threatening gestures and furious looks of the ruffians in his immediate vicinity. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. \"Where are you going?\" She cried.
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