Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. Just a formal marriage. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers.
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