He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. ” He went to the window and fidgeted with the blind, looking out to where the tree-tops of Regent’s Park showed distantly over the houses. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. You make me angry, and I lie. ‘Oh, are there? You are not quite alone in these adventures of yours, I take it.
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