“Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. At last his voice came to release her tension. She made an abrupt personal appeal. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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