It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. " "Oh, God!" cried Jack, "she does not know me. Beauty has bloomed and faded. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. The son of Prudence instead was obliged to take her back to the convent on Sunday to see Martha and tell her the good news, and to fetch her meagre belongings.
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