What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. We close the chapter. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. The word of a Chinaman; he had given it, so he must abide. . " "But, man, this chap hasn't fallen soft.
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