White. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp.
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