A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it. 1.
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