” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. His tone was rough, almost threatening. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding. If they are not obvious errors, they are left as in the original. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Ramage did not know. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. Some have no males.
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