” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. I dare say it will be chattered about for weeks. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. " "I feel bewildered," said Ruth. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. But go on.
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