" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. “I’ll have to pay it. And don't worry about the six thousand, Hoddy. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. federal laws and your state’s laws.
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