IN a motor-bus, making its vociferous way along one of the noisiest of main City thoroughfares, sat Dulcie Hurst. She was used to London clamour, and it hardly disturbed the even current of her thoughts. Omnibuses lumbered by in the opposite direction; cabs went this way and that; private motors, reluctantly compelled to creep, gave forth their asthmatic coughs of warning; yells of "Evening pi-per" pierced the din; but she neither turned her head nor varied her steadfast gaze.…
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