For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. He was angry.
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