Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Paris copies London. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. . ’ ‘They wear a uniform, do they not? They march and fight with swords and shoot with guns, no?’ ‘Well, yes, miss. Ruth took hers in the sea, but was careful never to go beyond her depth because of the sharks. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. But we must not anticipate the course of events.
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