"So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. Indeed, it is rather a matter of whose death is close. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Look here. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers.
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