It is no place for you; no place at all." "Let us leave it," said Pauline.
"Ah! Pauline, I would close it to-morrow if I could, but now it is too late; I cannot." "Why ?" asked Pauline, pleadingly.
She had cast an arm about his neck.

Her tears sparkled with a smile.
"My daughter, I cannot tell you; you must go now to bed; good-night--or good-morning; God keep you!" "Well, then, papa," she said, "have no fear; you need not hide me; I have my prayer-book, and my altar, and my garden, and my window; my garden is my fenced city, and my window my watch-tower; do you see ?" "Ah! Pauline," responded the father, "but I have been letting the enemy in and out at pleasure." "Good-night," she answered, and kissed him three times on either cheek; "the blessed Virgin will take care of us; good-night; _he_ never said those things; not he; good-night." The next evening Galahad Shaughnessy and Manuel Mazaro met at that "very different" place, the Cafe des Refugies.

There was much free talk going on about Texan annexation, about chances of war with Mexico, about San Domingan affairs, about Cuba and many et-ceteras.

Galahad was in his usual gay mood.

He strode about among a mixed company of Louisianais, Cubans, and Americains, keeping them in a great laugh with his account of one of Ole Bull's concerts, and how he had there extorted an invitation from M.and Mme.