No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the author. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. ’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. You’re of age— you’re of age. “It is unimportant,” she said. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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