CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. I came to the Beck’s house. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail.
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