It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. Earles glanced at it, and his eyes flashed with anger. From midnight until morning he was now left alone. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. He may not be able to eat tin-cans, but he tries to. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose.
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