propriety, it seems a pity that he was facing the wrong way.

I laugh, oh, yes, I laugh at the memory, until I think how silvery were
these three wine-muddled old heads, and then I feel "the pity, oh, the
pity of it!"




_CHAPTER XVIII

A BELATED WEDDING_


It was in a city in the far West that this small incident took place--a
city of the mountains still so young that some of its stateliest
business buildings of stone or marble, with plate-glass, fine furniture,
and electric lighting, were neighboured not merely by shanties, but
actually by tents.

But though high up in the mountains, the young city was neither too far
nor too high for vice to reach it; and so it came about that a certain
woman, whose gold-bought smiles had become a trifle too mocking and
satirical to be attractive, had come to the young city and placed
herself at the head of an establishment where, at command, every one
from sunset laughed and was merry, and held out hungry, grasping little
hands for the gold showered upon them--laughed, with weary, pain-filled
eyes--laughed, with stiff, tired lips sometimes--but still laughed till
sunrise--and then, well, who cared what they did _then_?