But I don't understand her; she's over my head. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. I made it a point to bring beachcombers to the house to fill her with horror of mankind. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. “Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to.
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