This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. If only Gerald would come. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. If you met her you would, I am certain, think her as fine as I do. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. You’re trespassing again, and I’ve come to arrest you,’ Gerald said promptly. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. He had changed her life dramatically, and she had missed him dreadfully. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect.
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