’ Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the glance he received from the boy. He had seldom been more perturbed. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. "Do not shed more blood," cried the carpenter. I am quite sure though that they did not mean to be rude. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. "I am twenty," said the girl. He, who had faced the gale, would have been instantly stifled. A sinister thought edged in.
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