As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. She elected to go to prison. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. Occasionally he relit his pipe. You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair.
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