She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. . ” “That’s rather a fine sort of holiday!” He made no answer for three or four seconds. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. “Eight, Cavendish Square. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. 8 or 1. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage.
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