” “One has theories,” said Ann Veronica, radiantly. ” The dinner came to an end at last, and the whiskered waiter presented his bill and evacuated the apartment and closed the door behind him with an almost ostentatious discretion. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Wood,—"he'll never mend. I must not let you go again. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. ‘Go you through the passage and find the other door.
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