When he was gone, and she heard the water in the bath running, she put out a complete set of garments on the bed in his dressing-room, then went downstairs and fetched up the biscuit box and whisky. Putting on her coat again, and listening a moment at the bathroom door, she went down and out. In the street she hesitated. Past seven o’clock! Would Soames be at his Club or at Park Lane? She turned towards the latter. Back!

Soames had always feared it⁠—she had sometimes hoped it.⁠ ⁠… Back! So like him⁠—clown that he was⁠—with this: “Here we are again!” to make fools of them all⁠—of the Law, of Soames, of herself!