"Ay, ay, I'll go, fast enough!" returned Jonathan, putting his hands into his pockets, "but not alone, Sir Rowland. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. Taking the opposite course from that which he had hitherto pursued when it has been necessary to attend him in his visits to the lower part of his premises, he struck into a narrow passage on the right, which he tracked till he came to a small door, like the approach to a vault. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. She traced him by his scent.
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