She was surprised at his modesty. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. “I must live, you know. ‘Well, that depends. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. .
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