’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. Earles strode into the waiting-room. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary's carelessness. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. “Mr. “Tut, tut!” he said. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping.
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