“Who can tell?” she said. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. ” “I would forgive you a great deal more,” he answered readily, “for the sake of an evening like this. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain.
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