“What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss. “I wish you would not do it.
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