Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. " "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world.
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