She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. " "Perhaps not," replied Jack, carelessly. “Well——” She stopped short. She knew the truth of it all right. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. “I love you, Ann Veronica. But let that verse tell my secret. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um.
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