She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. You don’t know about Mary because you live in Kent. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. . She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. ‘The whole town is talking.
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