” She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. Ramage demurred. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before. 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. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. By the side of her plate was a small key.
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