He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. . “Yes. “So that’s the way it is. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. I felt his heart. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace.
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