“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. “After all, how easy the descent is, even for the greatest of us. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily.
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