A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. "Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. She finished the olive and looked up. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. . Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower.
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