A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. At once. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. See? Nothing really. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. , like to forget all about it—even their names. But it's French manners, I suppose. David Courtlaw. Probably a sick man's whim.
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