Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. Jack turned away with an aching heart. Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. She liked to do it for Cathy Beck, so that she could relax after waitressing all day at the Big Apple with a homemade meal.
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