With the aid of a penknife he ripped the shoulder seams and drew out the ten one-thousand dollar bills. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. ” After a pause, she added, “Do you mind fetching back my recalcitrant cavalier. Ed. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. It must be somewhere hereabouts. The chair was torture. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort.
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