“Please let me drive you home. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. ’ Her face fell. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. " He patted her hand. I’ve been smoking cigarettes in the preparation-room and thinking this out. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table.
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