"I was," answered Sheppard. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. “I believe so. Parbleu, but I will certainly kill him this time. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards.
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