“Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. She had heard the trader utter it many times. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. I like you very much, I haven’t known you enough to love you, no matter how worthy you are of love. She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune. Rummage, my boy, do. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement.
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