You cannot have a kinder master." "I don't say nothing agen the Marquis, sir," said Rake doggedly; "he's a right-on generous gentleman, but he aren't you.

Let me go with you, if it's just to rub the King down.

Lord, sir! you don't know what straits I've lived in--what a lot of things I can turn my hand to--what a one I am to fit myself into any rat-hole, and make it spicy.

Why, sir, I'm that born scamp, I am--I'm a deal happier on the cross and getting my bread just anyhow, than I am when I'm in clover like you've kept me." Rake's eyes looked up wistfully and eager as a dog's when he prays to be let out of kennel to follow the gun; his voice was husky and agitated with a strong excitement.

Cecil stood a moment, irresolute, touched and pained at the man's spaniel-like affection--yet not yielding to it.
"I thank you from my heart, Rake," he said at length, "but it must not be.