He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. “Then some of your family history is known to me. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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