He was caressing an idea. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room. Sorry. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. " Neither man spoke. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. Stanley poured wine. She did not therefore reveal to him that he had guaged her with accuracy. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. . ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square. .
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