Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him.
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