” The young man obeyed the summons. "It's very well Mr. The Iron Bar. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. you did what you had to do. " "And leave you thus?" rejoined Jack. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it.
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