There was small attraction to scene-making with such a master of disgraceful and humiliating scenes as he.

"He wouldn't care a rap," she muttered.

"He simply revels in scenes, knowing he's sure to win out at them as a mongrel in a fight with a"-- even in that trying moment her sense of humor did not leave her--"with a lapdog." She found herself comfortable and amazingly content, leaning against his shoulder; and presently she went to sleep, he holding the book in his free hand and reading calmly.

The next thing she knew he was shaking her gently.

"Albany," he said.