A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. Dear me! if there isn't his knock. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. “Hold on, she’s right here. CHAPTER XVI. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table.
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