” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. “Well, because I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. They were both dressed in every respect alike. ‘But the fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to threaten to kill me, and I— God help me!—should not have kissed you at all. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield.
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