It was the grand nursery of vice. F. . 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. The first circumstance that struck her on her arrival seemed ominous. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. Thus, all her interest in life began to centre upon the patient, who was apparently quite as anchorless as she was. ‘But I find you excessively rude, Gérard. Mild, you know, and boon.
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