He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. . "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. She trembled; but she did not know why. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. ” 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. Let him have his honeymoon.
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