She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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