. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. She passed down the stairs and into the street. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. ‘You won’t get a thing out of her. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. ‘Ask him. “I can say no more. "Yes," answered the girl. He was tall, slender, and suave. ‘Cover her, men. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it.
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