’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors.
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