” She nodded. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well. " Trenchard took up a pen. He refused. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. It was the girl. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. “My hand! This isn’t the place.
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