“HASSELL’S CAMP, “NEAR COLORADO. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. There you will be, in an inner temple. The Closing Scene 472 EPOCH THE FIRST. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered.
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