’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. On your own.
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