Chapter 37

“I told you you’d be surprised,” he said. “The history of other unsuccessful and unmarried policemen doesn’t interest me; I’m going to change that story—” “You can’t—without me,” retorted the girl, very pretty in her defiance across the table. There was a late white rose at either cover, lying on the cloth. She picked up hers, dusted her delicate nose with it, looked over the petals at him with unfeigned and virginal curiosity—as though wondering what kind of man this really was—wondering a little, too, to find him…