A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. One called her very distinctly “My dear!” Two secretarial posts did indeed seem to offer themselves in which, at least, there was no specific exclusion of womanhood; one was under a Radical Member of Parliament, and the other under a Harley Street doctor, and both men declined her proffered services with the utmost civility and admiration and terror. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. "My worst fears are realized. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. She interrupted. Hope you ate light before you got here. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it.
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