” “I’m not surprised at it. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. 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. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel.
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