When they were home, the pair headed for the Big Apple or the warmth of the Beck’s family table. You don’t know. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. So it will be wise for Mrs.
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