“I doubted my luck, at least. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain.
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