It was a purse. I would do anything—I would give anything to make you mine. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Sheppard, pressing her hand to her temples. ” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep.
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