"Do you mean to tell me he's come and gone in an hour? What the devil kind of a father is he?" Spurlock shook his head. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. ” She replied weakly.
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