Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. She is my only family. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided.
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