The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. He had, for the most part, been correct. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. The Disguise. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity.
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