“Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. " "So am I. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. She raised this with the air of a conspirator unmasking, and displayed a tear-flushed face. “You must send for the police at once, you know. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace.
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