Wood now re-appeared with a very red face; and, followed by Winifred, took her seat at the table. There was hope for me then. The Ragged Edge. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. 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. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. She will not confide in me. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. He must have married when he was quite a young man.
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