But the five per cent. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. You lie about your past all the time and you know it. Every word you utter puzzles me. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. She met him by the dugout after the game. —BRENDON. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart.
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