” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. I've opened the case of books. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. If only for the sake of her argument with her home, she wanted success. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane.
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