Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. He stood still, almost breathless. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. “Show me around you house, John. Lucy slipped upstairs silently.
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