More importantly, she had her wits. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. She pulled, he rose to his feet. What is it?" "Guess," rejoined Blueskin, attempting to throw a gallant expression into his forbidding countenance.
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