She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards. "He knows he had to take it. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. . "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. " "Aliva Trenchard!" exclaimed Mrs. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre.
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