"Where?" she cried. " Enschede stepped into the proa, and the natives shoved off. . She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. \" He piped up. But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. "Nothin'—nothin'," returned Blueskin; "only I thought—" "You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. But ——” A look checked him. Free! All the fine ecstasy, without the numbing terror. But they did what they could for her. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. .
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