“Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. But, answer me. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. She would never again be lonely. Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. She had told him, point blank, that since the Church had neither annulled the first marriage nor sanctified the second one, she was not his wife. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached.
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