" "Where are the assassins?" cried Sheppard. It could not go on much longer, her luck. . “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. Men do services for the love of women, and the woman who takes must pay. Athens was heaven on earth, and those who inhabited it knew it was so, and savored it. I went with him to what I supposed to be the British Embassy, and went through a ceremony which I understood to be the usual form of the marriage one used there. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. ” “You would marry a divorcée?” she asked.
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