" "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. It was a dead calm. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. He stabbed a kitchen knife between her ribs. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity.
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