“Yeah, I’ve heard that story. ‘Yes, but quite my own fault. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. “I should like you to come here,” she said. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. Mr.
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