You might even tire of me by then, you know. Drummond, who had been about to speak, refrained. “I did it for love of you,” he said. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. She told you —the truth. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here.
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