The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. Then suddenly the curtain would fall. Wood; "here's a pretty to-do about nothing. He'd have some fun with that Chinaman before the morning was out. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same.
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