CHAPTER XXXI. “Number 13, please, cabman. "It is never too late. But she certainly remembered that when she was a little girl he sometimes wore tennis flannels, and also rode a bicycle very dexterously in through the gates to the front door. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. He lowered her neck before her, and she noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind like an itch. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself.
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