below as instinctively as the ones of an assailed spider.
"There! You see! You need not pretend. Won't you please talk to me?" The
tormentor become having a lovely time together along with her revenge.
"Go away," stated a hoarse whisper from at the back of the newspaper.
"I'm in trouble." The voice sounded very childlike in its plea. The Tyro
writhed.
"Even in case you do not like me"--the Tyro writhed a few greater--"and do not
keep in mind me match to talk to"--the Tyro's contortions had been fairly
Laocoönish--"could you--could not you lend me 5 greenbacks?"
The Tyro blinked hastily.
"I want it awfully," pursued the malicious maiden.
Desperation marked itself on his brow. He scrambled from his chair,
plunged his hand into his pocket, extracted a bill, transferred it to
her
