’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. Manning, with a sweep of the arm. “Have you got to keep her now?” “To the best of my ability,” said Mr. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. CHAPTER XVII. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. "These writer chaps are queer birds. The times were such that, with the opinions he entertained, he could not remain idle. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling.
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