C. " "Funny, about that coat. Neither Charvill nor his heir know anything of your presence in England. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. “Thank you, ma’am. " Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before.
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