“I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. Pancras,” she directed, promptly. “I am going to America. CHAPTER I. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed. The curtain rose out of the concluding bars of the overture and revealed Isolde on the prow of the barbaric ship. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required.
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