’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. 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. Still, one never could tell. My mother, I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings.
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