” “Some little tiff?” “No; but I don’t think I shall see them. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. He may not be able to eat tin-cans, but he tries to. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. .
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