” “I’m not. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. ‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest.
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