“You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman. “It’s a way of avoiding explanations. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. m. You are not my husband. I believe he’s divorced. If he wants you, let him get you. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it.
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