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 harm in having a few on hand. But when in front of the little stone cottage occupied by the Misses Ruggles he suddenly changed his mind.

Glancing up he caught sight of a face at one of the windows. He doffed his cap. The next instant he realized that he had bowed to neither Miss Veridian nor Miss Anamite; that, in short, the face at the window had been that of the Princess. But already he was past the gate. To return now would look awkward at the least. No, he would continue his walk, return, and call on the Misses Ruggles. He had taken tea with them and it was his duty to call. So on he went, with Bistre trotting along behind, as far as the little green-shingled studio where lived the uninteresting Jenkins. There he turned and retraced his steps, striving heroically not to run.