He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber.
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