Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. He sent me flowers. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. “Well?” “I don’t care a rap for all these things. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us.
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