" "You had better write them for me, Mr. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. You square the G. ’ The lodgekeeper’s jaw fell open. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. “Oh, damn!” he said.
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