” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. Might we ask you if you have ever seen him, if you knew him at all before this evening?” She stood up suddenly, and turning her back to them, looked steadily out of the window. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. You told me he was going back to Newgate after supper, so I mayn't have another opportunity. Night and day have been alike to me. He waited. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry.
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