His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. I am shockingly poor. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. " "Dog!" exclaimed Quilt, turning fiercely upon him, "do you threaten?" But the watchman eluded his grasp, and, mingling with the crowd, disappeared. He glanced at his watch.
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