” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. Hang the wench! Roding was right. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. She won’t be a problem from now on.
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