” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. There isn’t. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion.
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