“Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. Hang it, there must be something about her that will give it away. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. What he wanted desperately was to be alone.
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