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” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. ’ ‘They? How many are there?’ ‘Oh, peste. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard.
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