“But we satisfy one another. He could not quite make her out; a new type. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. "He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. 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. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. "Oh no—no! You say this to terrify me—to try me. ’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. He smiled complacently. ” She said with a tone of defiance.
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