"What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. "I see. Anna, you shall not go. Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. "He must have gone this way," muttered Blueskin. You must live for me.
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