"I don't mean that. Of course there are doubles. But it is curious that you should have come over here and that we should have met like this at just this time. You see, the reason I went over to England at all was to try to get Jimmy Crocker to come back here."
"What!"
"I don't mean that I did. I mean that I went with my uncle and aunt, who wanted to persuade him to come and live with them."
Jimmy was now feeling completely out of his depth.
"Your uncle and aunt? Why?"
"I ought to have explained that they are his uncle and aunt, too. My aunt's sister married his father."
"But—"
"It's quite simple, though it doesn't sound so. Perhaps you haven't read the Sunday Chronicle lately? It has been publishing articles about Jimmy Crocker's disgusting behaviour in London—they call him Piccadilly Jim, you know—"
In print, that name had shocked Jimmy. Spoken, and by Ann, it was loathly. Remorse for his painful past tore at him.
"There was another one printed yesterday."