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A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. It is a precaution merely. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. “The things involved in it are,” he answered gravely. " "Not if it will hurt her.
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