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Updated: May 18, 2025
Challice, he must openly label himself as Henry Leek. He had lost Mrs. Challice; there was no address on her letter; he only knew that she lived at or near Putney, and the sole hope of finding her again lay in the fact that she had the Selwood Terrace address.
Thus Priam Farll began his first public meal in modern London. He knew the hotels; he knew the restaurants, of half-a-dozen countries, but he had never been so overwhelmed as he was here. Remembering London as a city of wooden chop-houses, he could scarcely eat for the thoughts that surged through his brain. "Isn't it amusing?" said Mrs. Challice benignantly, over a glass of lager.
"I suppose you won't be staying here long," demanded Mrs. Challice. "Oh no!" he said. "I shall decide something." "Shall you take another place?" she inquired. "Another place?" "Yes." Her smile was excessively persuasive and inviting. "I don't know," he said diffidently. "You must have put a good bit by," she said, still with the same smile. "Or perhaps you haven't. Saving's a matter of chance.
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