Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. And the jailers also retired. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Others pulled hats over their noses, cowered in their seats, and feigned that all was right with the world.
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