"Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost.
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