’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. " "Ah!" ejaculated the widow, hiding her face. "I imagine I must have a hundred rolls—all the old fellows. " She kindled with sympathy. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. I promised to put him in touch with some people in Rome, an idea which he warmed to. “Tell me more about this Martin Chen.
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