She didn’t choose her man. ‘Go on, Gerald. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. “It has been a delightful evening for me. I’m fine. ” “With you!” “And as for your people?” “They don’t count. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms.
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