’ ‘Merci. If you forget your sex, jade, I must forget mine. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. You have the ideas. “Hey, Mike. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. “Dare!” she said. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do.
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