"I've waited supper, you perceive. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. ’ Hilary’s brows shot up. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin.
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