She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Never did I need a rescue so much. “My God!” he said again. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. He was angry. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions.
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