Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. It is not a dissipated face. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. " "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries.
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