"I am sorry. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. shouldn’t be friends. Ye gods! what a wilderness it is! Every one trying to get the better of every one, every one regardless of every one—it’s one of those days when every one bumps against you—every one pouring coal smoke into the air and making confusion worse confounded, motor omnibuses clattering and smelling, a horse down in the Tottenham Court Road, an old woman at the corner coughing dreadfully—all the painful sights of a great city, and here you come into it to take your chances. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. I will not talk to you about Miss Pellissier or her affairs. I always fall on my feet, you know. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. “Women are mocked,” she said.
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