Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach. ’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly.
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