“He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. " The Wastrel advanced. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. To-night we leave for Marseilles. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. ‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. "I am so excessively fond of snuff. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home.
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