As she did so, Solomon turned to the followers of The Good
Republican Brutus of Antiquity, and offered a few words of
explanation in the French language, which caused them all to
relapse into their former places and pursuits.
“Now,” said Solomon, stopping at the dark street corner, “what
do you want?”
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“How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever turned
my love away from!” cried Miss Pross, “to give me such a greeting,
and show me no affection.”
“There. Con-found it! There,” said Solomon, making a dab at
Miss Pross’s lips with his own. “Now are you content?”
Miss Pross only shook her head and wept in silence.
“If you expect me to be surprised,” said her brother Solomon,
“I am not surprised; I knew you were here; I know of most people
who are here. If you really don’t want to endanger my existence
which I half believe you dogo your ways as soon as possible, and
let me go mine. I am busy. I am an official.”
“My English brother Solomon,” mourned Miss Pross, casting
up her tear-fraught eyes, “that had the makings in him of one of
the best and greatest of men in his native country, an official
among foreigners, and such foreigners! I would almost sooner
have seen the dear boy lying in his”
“I said so!” cried her brother, interrupting. “I knew it. You want
to be the death