"I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. He just walked in a few minutes ago. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other.
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