” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations. . “Limp,” he answered. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. "Keep a sharp look out, Bess. Even though I knew you’d no one else to care.
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