But he would make it a point not to speak again to the girl. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips.
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