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I will dedicate my books to you. His literary instincts were reviving. I have suffered too much from your treachery. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. Lucy marveled at the billiards table and the sauna. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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