’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. Sebastian dared not approach her. . If you two are examples of the modern miss, I don’t know what the world is coming to. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. We pretend we never think of everything that makes us what we are. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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