Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. ’ She gave him a straight look. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side.
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