It is always on his person. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. . There'll be busy days and idle. ” He fumed. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. She pointed. “But—your people!” she gasped.
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