At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. And then they disgorged. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. " "Wretches!" screamed the lady; "don't dare to breathe your vile insinuations against me! Oh! Mr. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. “Let me add too that I am thankful for your decision. But since you assure me you didn't write the letters, and Mr. Rich folks, once. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play.
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