Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. “Because I hate you!” She spat. Now she knew why the soldiers had not caught him. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. It ought not to be much. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. She was good to me for the two years I stayed with her, she had a nice apartment in Galveston. “I want to be your friend,” he said. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both.
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