The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. Earles was absolutely indifferent. She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew. ” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience.
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