Olga's state seemed to her thoroughly unwholesome, to be
regarded as a warning; it was evidently contagious; it affected the
imagination with morbid allurement. Morbid, surely; Irene would not
see it in any other light. She felt the need of protecting herself
against thoughts which had never until now given her a moment's
uneasiness. Happily she was going to lunch with her friend Mrs.
Borisoff, anything but a sentimental person. She began to discern a
possibility of taking Helen Borisoff into her confidence. With
someone she _must_ talk freely; Olga would only harm her; in Helen
she might find the tonic of sound sense which her mood demanded.
Olga Hannaford, meanwhile, finished her toilet, and, having had no
breakfast, went out a little after midday to the restaurant in
Oxford Street where she often lunched. Her walking-dress showed
something of the influence of Miss Bonnicastle; it was more
picturesque, more likely to draw the eye, than her costume of former
days. She walked, too, with an air of liberty which marked her
spiritual progress. Women glanced at her and looked away with a toss
of the head--or its more polite equivalent. Men observed her with
a smile of interest; "A fine girl," was their comment, or something
to that effect.
Strolling westward after her meal, intending to make a circuit by
way of Edgware Road, she was near the Marble Arch when a man who had
caught sight of her from the top of an omnibus alighted and hastened
in her direction.
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