‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. The young lady in the bureau said she would inquire, and Ann Veronica, while she affected to read the appeal on a hospital collecting-box upon the bureau counter, had a disagreeable sense of being surveyed from behind by a small, whiskered gentleman in a frock-coat, who came out of the inner office and into the hall among a number of equally observant green porters to look at her and her bags. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind.
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