“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. Mr. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. And all the talk of the Miniver people and the Widgett people seemed always to be like a ship in adverse weather on the lee shore of love. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. They would be partners only in loneliness. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr. I hate this part of the world.
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