Sebastian drank deeply and quickly of her blood. “Well——” She stopped short. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. I might as well be at Morningside Park. In the struggle the pistol went off, but without damage to either party. At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeeded in getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down the patient's throat. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated.
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