He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. ’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him. Get a license—just an idea of mine.
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