Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. I worshipped her and subdued myself. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. " "That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh.
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