"Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. . “Vee,” she said, “come home. ” She replied informally. ’ ‘Yes, but what is it, Jacques?’ demanded the lady. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. The first set of occupations seemed to her to be altogether too domestic and restricted; for the latter she was dreadfully handicapped by her want of experience. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. . " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. The spinsters had purchased one grass-linen tablecloth; the girl and the young man had purchased nothing. She understood.
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