" "Mr. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. Her sister’s words were true. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. . “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. And the less “anything” happened the better. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape. Twenty-one, twenty-two. “Martin, you realize that I’m dating someone, don’t you?” She knew his reply before he uttered it. Now go.
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