It
had been good for her to regale; she was very conscious of that; she
was very observant, as we know, of what was good for her, and her
effort was constantly to find something that was good enough. To
profit by the present advantage till the latest moment she had made
the journey from Paris with the unenvied travellers. She would have
accompanied them to Liverpool as well, only Edmund Ludlow had asked
her, as a favour, not to do so; it made Lily so fidgety and she
asked such impossible questions. Isabel watched the train move away;
she kissed her hand to the elder of her small nephews, a demonstrative
child who leaned dangerously far out of the window of the carriage and
made separation an occasion of violent hilarity, and then she walked
back into the foggy London street. The world lay before her- she could
do whatever she chose. There was a deep thrill in it all, but for
the present her choice was tolerably discreet; she chose simply to
walk back from Euston Square to her hotel. The early dusk of a
November afternoon had already closed in; the street-lamps, in the
thick, brown air, looked weak and red; our heroine was unattended
and Euston Square was a long way from Piccadilly.
Pages:
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563