. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Come along home, Ruth. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. . ’ He could just see the glare. Men fled from their tottering habitations, and returned to them scared by greater dangers. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations.
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