"Brother, who's this girl?"
"She's—she's my housekeeper. That's all I can say at present, Garry."
"Married?"
"Good God!"
Stormily he paced the floor, while I watched him with a great calm. At last he spoke.
"Tell me about her."
"Sit down, Garry; light a cigar. We may as well talk this thing over quietly."
"All right. Who is she?"
"Berna," I said, lighting my cigar, "is a Jewess. She was born of an unwed mother, and reared in the midst of misery and corruption."