“Yes, mostly. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. We sha’n’t hang up on any misunderstanding. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee.
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