He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Sheppard returned no answer. God had never answered any of her prayers. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. ‘The cat’s foot, Hilary. ‘Poor Hilary. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly.
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