He tried again. “No,” she answered. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. Wood obeyed. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. You can think all round me. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. I packed them with the other few things I owned.
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