We mustn’t make it so. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. We’re handfuls. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it.
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