” She made some inane response. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. There was a black fear in his heart. There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. “In private. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. " Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of a query, but ruminantly.
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