She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. No: I must face it out. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe.
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