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. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. "I'll admit that. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. She got a bun and some cocoa in the little refreshment-room, and then wandered through the galleries up-stairs, crowded with Polynesian idols and Polynesian dancinggarments, and all the simple immodest accessories to life in Polynesia, to a seat among the mummies. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. . Mr.
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