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Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. "The Dawn Pearl," he said. “It is such a very respectable boarding-house,” she said. The theme was a masquerade. You are not my husband. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. He did not particularly care. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. .
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