Then he remembered that she was Anna’s sister. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. For a time she promenaded the room. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy.
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