” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. . But you belong to me—and I want you. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. Michelle looked at Lucy knowingly. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal.
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