. . .The blue vapor from the three burning cigarettes rose and mingled. Bella was quiet, reflective; Bowman sat with half-shut speculative eyes; Lemuel Doret was again lost in visions.

"How long are you taking the milk cure?" Bowman asked.

Lemuel made no reply, but his wife smiled bitterly.

"I had an idea," the other continued; "but it's a little soon to spring anything. And I don't know but you might prefer it here."

"Try me," Bella proclaimed; "that's all I want!"

Doret still said nothing of his determination to conquer life in Nantbrook. A swift impulse seized him to take June Bowman by the collar and fling him into the street.

"Just try me!" Bella repeated.

He would be helpless in his, Doret's, hands. It was hard enough to be upright without an insinuating crook in the place. There was a heavy movement of feet in the front of the house, and h. . . Read More