I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. “Showtime!” Martin cried. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. That would come later. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. He would provide the necessities of life and protect her. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.
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