. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg. You've caught the colour and the life. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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