Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Do you think he'll pay it?" "I'm sure of it," replied Austin. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. We were only—les autres. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. I told you no good would come of it. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself.
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