It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. No one would ever know what happened to him. You thanked me tersely, then, barely noticing my existence you went right back to your conversation! I was somewhat crushed but my spirits were lifted when the butcher revealed who your husband-to-be was. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth.
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