harm in having a few on hand. But when in front of the little stone cottage occupied by the Misses Ruggles he suddenly changed his mind.
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Glancing up he caught sight of a
face at one of the windows. He doffed
his cap. The next instant he realized
that he had bowed to neither Miss Veridian
nor Miss Anamite; that, in
short, the face at the window had been
that of the Princess. But already he
was past the gate. To return now
would look awkward at the least. No,
he would continue his walk, return,
and call on the Misses Ruggles. He
had taken tea with them and it was
his duty to call. So on he went, with
Bistre trotting along behind, as far as
the little green-shingled studio where
lived the uninteresting Jenkins. There
he turned and retraced his steps,
striving heroically not to run.
