\"Are you hungry at all?\" He asked her. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl.
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