‘Neither do I,’ he responded, frowning, ‘but for Gerald’s sake, I’ll do anything I can. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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