The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. Last week. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. ” “What?” He asked. “I’m a big boy, you know. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him.
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