“As things are at present,” she said, “it is true. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. Jack turned away with an aching heart. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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