Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. . He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. I had a perfect shoal of callers. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. Afterwards we started for a motor ride to a place outside Paris for déjeuner, and I suppose the man’s nerve failed him.
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