"Your answer!" cried Sheppard. . . "That we were afraid," replied the other; "but never mind her. I would be too 222 busy protecting you. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. ” She gave him a Marboro which he lit with a Zippo with an American flag on it. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time.
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