Earles?” he inquired. No, don’t let me call myself that. . 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. This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. Ramage,” she cried, “you are outrageous! You understand nothing. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain.
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