‘We was of an age, you see, miss. Perhaps you will explain the state of panic into which I seem to have thrown you. . I'm in a funk," Spurlock confessed. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding.
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