She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. “See you at school tomorrow. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. His employer retreated into the further apartment, leaving the door ajar. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough.
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