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. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop. I told him the truth.
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