” “You alarm me,” she murmured, smiling. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. It is not so. 5. Nothing else weighs against it. Jeez! It was about time. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters.
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