No, don’t let me call myself that. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. But those days are over—quite over. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. For a time I must do journalism and work hard. ‘Ask him. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. Annabel thought, and thought again. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. 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 felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth.
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