"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. “Cheer up, Annabel. One or the other. ” It was sitting in her suitcase in the same pocket as the expired bus tickets. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster.
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