The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. Not part with him!" added he aloud. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. . "Never, Ma'am!" echoed Mr. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. " "You look pretty fit. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. “Two days’ notice shall be sufficient on either side.
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