The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. ’ ‘Eh bien? And so?’ ‘He says as how he’s going to take you with him to France with his new wife. Irreton. I love you—with all my heart and soul. You are not my husband. And yet it was basically a fine action.
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