He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop. He kissed her cheek. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist.
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