Chapter VI

Miss Keggs again—mysteriously, unaccountably called Keggo. Why? We shall see. Rosalie met her. Keggo smiling fixedly. Had evidently been smiling for some time. In a drab street, sad drab. Forlorn drab drabs, like sad drab ghosts drably flickered in and out, itinerant drabs in drab cerements. All drab, except Keggo, who was brilliantly lit up.