It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. ’ ‘Was. It’s all very handsome starting out on your own, but it’s too damned hard. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea.
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