Wild's dwelling without apprehension, or quitted it without satisfaction. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. Well one night, some of us saw him, or thought we saw him, at a café dining with ‘Alcide,’—as a matter of fact, it seems that it was her sister. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage.
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