“Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. Mrs. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. "To-morrow it will be mine.
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