The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. It was Annabel who spoke. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention.
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