the expectant expression of the face indicated a sanguine and volatile nature. The girl who walked by his side had nothing remarkable in her appearance, save in the pathos of her eyes, which haunted Farwell for months after.
Inside the comfortless wooden building was a long bare room which served for a restaurant. Here all was bustle and hurry. The keeper of the establishment was overlooking half a dozen men, who were arranging the tables. His wife, a lank, raw-boned New Englander, was making thick sandwiches with heavy saleratus bread and large wedges of ham, cut from a still smoking joint. In an adjoining apartment the two bar-tenders, in the lightest possible costumes, were busy mixing drinks for the thirsty multitude of loungers. The grated ice rang musically in the tumblers, and the sound of the julep was pleasant to the ears of those who were anticipating a refreshing draught, while it recalled to those who had already
