They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. His aunt, here at McClintock's? It was unbelievable. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. "Wasn't he in some way connected with the Jacobite plots?" "He was," replied Thames. But it is the truth. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria.
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