"Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down.
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