And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver.
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