Part 4
But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed
her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with
its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped
furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and
had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. “Let us go to that little place at the back of
the Palace. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. Come. ‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’
asked Roding. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think
that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded.
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