And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. She was silent. ToC Jonathan Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. It was the gratification of an immense necessity. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt.
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