He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. Sir John waved her back. ‘Eh bien, I will tell you. Never did I need a rescue so much. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said.
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