Jonathan laughed scornfully. Within ten minutes he had read much more than had greeted his eye. “You remind me of the story which they tell against us over here, you know—of the Englishman who refused to be saved from drowning because he was unacquainted with his rescuer. The Ragged Edge. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. I’ll protect you!” He cried. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. . ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth.
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