Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world. . He was staring at her, openly gaping. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. I'll see. “You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you.
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