‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. 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. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet.
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