Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. He remained talking with her however. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. He put an arm around her. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. 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. . " "No; another still more extraordinary. ’ ‘But it is stupide. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. To tell you the truth, he spoke to me very seriously upon the subject.
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