“Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. ” He crossed his arms. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. “Why?” “I still love you. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. “The man alone could supply any, and if he recovers sufficiently to say anything, what he would say would exonerate you.
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