"All right. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory.
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