The Womans Way

He thrust his hand in his breast-pocket, in which, with his love of

ostentation, he always carried a bundle of notes and some loose gold,

and, as he held out his hand to Derrick, there was something crisp in

it.

Derrick shook the hand and pressed back the note; he could not speak for

a minute; then he said, rather huskily: "It's all right, Mr. Bloxford. You paid me on Friday night, and I've

plenty to go on with."

With that he went out, heavy-hearted, and Mr. Bloxford stood at the

door, his extraordinary face drawn into a thousand wrinkles and his lips

shaping strange oaths.