By the side of her plate was a small key. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. . ‘I must get a handkerchief. ” Anna shivered a little.
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