‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. Girls screamed in chorus. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. She came with such force that she feared he might be pushed out from 193 the contractions, which did not happen. "Oh! he'll be after you directly. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?.
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