” “I suppose people would say that it is a matter of temperament,” she continued. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. . "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. The thought had not even occurred to him. “Well?” he asked her tersely. “How well and jolly you must be feeling. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. I want to give you time to think. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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