Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. “I couldn’t help it. “You don’t want to go?” “No. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Don’t be afraid that I shall stunt it.
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