I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. We were alike. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. "Comfort yourself, my charmer," said Mr. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. After all, old P. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things.
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