Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. If you met her you would, I am certain, think her as fine as I do. I don’t care. "I've known him all my life," replied the other. " "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs.
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