” “You have been to her?” he asked. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. . Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. But … he must want to live in order that the inclination to repeat this incident may not recur. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. ‘Odd sort of a nun.
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