” Mr. I knew where I would go next: Florence. Nuns, I mean. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. . She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. She dived at once behind the cover of the lamproom and affected serious trouble with her shoe-lace until he was out of the station, and then she followed slowly and with extreme discretion until the bifurcation of the Avenue from the field way insured her escape. You care for me a little, I know.
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