Late in July he finished the fourth story. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. Without her, it was lonely. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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