" Here Ruth returned with the broth; and McClintock strode aft, convinced that he was going to have something far more interesting than books to read. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. A nurse was at the other end of the room. Suddenly he stopped short. " "All right; and thank you. ‘Well, she’d better learn fast if she wants any truck with me. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. “It is no good playing a game. “We will do Paris like the tourists, and thank God here comes dinner. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. “How do you feel?” she asked. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter.
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