She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. ” She replied weakly. ” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. “They all catch on,” she said. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him.
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