" "A bold resolution," said the woollen-draper. And not only so, but that it was after all, a more systematic and particular method of examining just the same questions that underlay the discussions of the Fabian Society, the talk of the West Central Arts Club, the chatter of the studios and the deep, the bottomless discussions of the simple-life homes. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. "I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs.
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