She gathered up the chain, revealing a locket which had lain hidden in her bosom. But the people among whom she was now thrown through the social exertions of Miss Miniver and the Widgetts—for Teddy and Hetty came up from Morningside Park and took her to an eighteen-penny dinner in Soho and introduced her to some art students, who were also Socialists, and so opened the way to an evening of meandering talk in a studio—carried with them like an atmosphere this implication, not only that the world was in some stupid and even obvious way WRONG, with which indeed she was quite prepared to agree, but that it needed only a few pioneers to behave as such and be thoroughly and indiscriminately “advanced,” for the new order to achieve itself. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity.
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