Mr. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. But that doesn’t alter the fact that there IS innocence. A brisk talk sprang up between Capes and Mr. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. That glove is still preserved. At length, when he saw no escape from the inevitable, he took the four title pages from the manuscripts and typed new ones, substituting Taber for Spurlock. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock. Guns were impossible. Mike was already on dishwasher duty when John rang the doorbell.
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