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It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. “I am getting plain,” she said, with a little shudder. He would advise you how to get rid of the fellow. He nodded silently, too full for words. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. One called her very distinctly “My dear!” Two secretarial posts did indeed seem to offer themselves in which, at least, there was no specific exclusion of womanhood; one was under a Radical Member of Parliament, and the other under a Harley Street doctor, and both men declined her proffered services with the utmost civility and admiration and terror. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides.
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