“I will not trouble you with any questions about the other occupants of the flats,” Mr. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said. So there is no escape. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly.
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