The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. ’ Gerald laughed and clapped him on the back. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her.
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