Giles Bowl I. Ah Cum had no business taking him into the city last night. It was decrepit and too large. He filled her glass with champagne. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. "If you loiter in this way, old Wood will catch us. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely.
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