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Near by stood Ah Cum and the young unknown, the former protesting gently, the latter insistent upon his demands. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. He HAD followed her! What had he followed her for? He must have followed her all the way from beyond Grosvenor Square. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. Lucy was silent. .
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