Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. They are the only happy women in the Orient. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. “Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly.
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