Like appendicitis. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. . Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. “I’ll go.
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