The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. It'll be your turn to save mine next. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up.
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