“Why waste yourself, John?” 241 < 31 > THE CONCERT Martin Chen showed up early for the pre-concert warm-up at 5:00. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. But a woman’s life is all chance. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. I thought that you loved Paris and your work so much. —Gentlemen, your most obsequious trout.
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