She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. “I shan’t eat him.
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