Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. Wild allowed you to have your fine clothes again, or you might have been taken in a still more disgraceful garb. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it.
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