Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. ” “I would forgive you a great deal more,” he answered readily, “for the sake of an evening like this. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. The militia offered little in the way of relief. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. "I do not see him. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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