48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. " "A key!" exclaimed Wood eagerly. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper. "I can't see him.
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