” He sat down on her left side and put his hand on her knee, gesturing with his other hand. He certainly bore inspection. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. . You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. ’ Which effectually silenced her. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. And not a worthy tome in sight. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot.
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