” She changed the subject abruptly. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. 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. “I ought to have done. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. You haven’t had it on your mind all this time?” “I have rather.
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