” Chapter X THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table at a crowded A. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. I bring you tidings of an old friend. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. "You are, Sir," thundered Jonathan; "and, unless you find him, you shan't hold your place a week. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. She’s already spoken for. Jack was not half your age when he died. Her head ached with a hollow pain. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me.
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