"Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. . The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. Then suddenly the curtain would fall. To his great joy he found a small garret-door in the roof of the opposite house open. Ramage, by a hundred skilful hints had led her to realize that the problem of her own life was inseparably associated with, and indeed only one special case of, the problems of any woman’s life, and that the problem of a woman’s life is love. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring.
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