She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. He felt her observance and warmed to it. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. "If you loiter in this way, old Wood will catch us. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. He’s the handle of life for you. She could not speak. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner.
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