Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. He really deserves a better fate, does he not? He is so beautifully persistent. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. "Precisely. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. His curiosity put itself into a question. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere.
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