"There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. "Come along, my sly shaver. 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. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely.
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