” Annabel shivered a little and looked around her. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. The latter began to heave himself up from the sand. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers.
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