As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. “That’s what we narcs have to do.
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