He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. But they would not be denied. . " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. “In any case, I decline to see you alone. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. ’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris.
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