CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. " The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs. “Really,” she said. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. “I tell my Mom everything. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high.
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