Well, it had to happen somewhen. Having drunk as much as he thought prudent, and thanked his unknown friend for his attention, Jack again lay down on the straw, and indulged himself with another nap, intending to get up as soon as it was perfectly dark. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. . Cut it as short as you can. CHAPTER XIV. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. "One last embrace. Say something.
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