"Well, that beats all I ever heard of!" roared Blueskin. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. "Where did you pick it up?" "I believe I told you; at Yale. Attempt to molest me, and I split. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion.
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