You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. Amiable and good-looking. Mrs. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky.
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