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. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. "Well, I won't dispute your judgment in such matters, Mr. We’ll have Trodger check it out later. How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. It was a mad half-hour. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. ” He was not in the least surprised. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown.
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