‘I want a word with you, my lad. She attacked his hair resolutely. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. " "Well, we shall see," replied Jack. "Then you ought to be thankful to me for the warning. ” They were lingering over their dessert. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park.
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