I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. “I have just ordered a carriage for her. There was hope for me then. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre.
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