“Look here,” he cried out of a silence, with a sudden flash of understanding, “did you mean to throw me over when you came out with me this afternoon?” Ann Veronica hesitated, and with a startled mind realized the truth. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave. ” His face darkened. There were the burnt papers still in the grate.
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