“It’s his birthday. ” “I knew it,” Ennison exclaimed. . She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Sheppard broke from him, and filled the room with her shrieks.
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