"And me," added Mrs. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. ‘Never mind where. . "Manuscripts! Why, this chap is a writer, or is trying to be. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. Well, I'll be getting this tub under way. ” “Six pounds. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. CHAPTER IX. For a long time he stared at the empty doorway.
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