CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. “I only use the weeniest little dab of rouge,” she declared, “and it is really necessary, because I want to get rid of the ‘pallor effect. But her request was unheeded. Amid the confusion, Shotbolt sprang to his feet, and levelling a pistol at Jack's head, commanded him to surrender; but, before any reply could be made, the jailer's arm was struck up by Blueskin, who, throwing himself upon him, dragged him to the ground. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin.
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