4. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. “Beats me. . “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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