The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. The stranger with a bow returned to his table. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned.
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