"You have lived over here?"—astonished. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. “I mean to,” she replied. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. “You must not think of me as one. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. But Miss Miniver was highly unsatisfactory. They were both dressed in every respect alike. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue.
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