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Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. "Jack," continued Thames, addressing Sheppard, who had only just recovered from the blow, and regained his feet, "I don't ask how you came here, nor do I blame your rashness in doing so. There’s stories, too, about his demonstrator, Capes Something or other. ” “You weren’t rude,” she said. The young man had knocked over the siphon. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.

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