’ He glanced about and saw his quarry holding court at one end of the vast mirrored chamber. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. . " CHAPTER XI. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. And you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time.
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