The next morning came a compact letter from her father. " "Twenty pounds," rejoined Mrs. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. She had exposed the real story behind Peters tragedy, that dark, handsome Chuck had killed himself by leaving the car running in the garage, not from a “heart attack” as 111 claimed the party line. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that.
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