Part 5 The next morning she waited in the laboratory at the lunch-hour in the reasonable certainty that he would come to her. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. One point was that she was to wear fancy dress in the likeness of a Corsair’s bride, and the other was that she was to spend whatever vestiges of the night remained after the dance was over in London with the Widgett girls and a select party in “quite a decent little hotel” near Fitzroy Square. “I should love to come. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me.
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