. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. “Really!” said Mr. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. ” “Right!” he answered. It was true. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. I offered him a hundred to watch Spurlock. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. He was damned if he knew what to do.
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