For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. But, hang it, I know it's good!" "Of course it is!" In the afternoon he began work on another tale.
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