Chapter 2
It was Jabez. The prodigal had returned, though by no means in the rags of his Biblical prototype. Rather was he like the rich man in the parable-clothed in purple and fine linen. In modern parlance there was about him the look of a man with a balance at his bank. A vastly different person from the scarecrow who had met Miriam under the wall of Lesser Thorpe church. "Jabez," she repeated-her voice was hoarse and low-"what are you doing here?" "Not much yet; thought I just drop in and look you up, dear," replied the man, tossing his hat and gloves on to the sofa and making himself comfortable. "You don't seem overjoyed to see me though." "No, I am not. Can you expect me to be? I thought you had passed out of my life for ever. How did you find me out here?" "Shorty! There you have it. I
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