He seated himself before it. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. Carp, tench, and roach were so divided that even the fins, heads and fleshless spines were sold. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. " "Here he is!" cried Ireton, as the knocking was heard without. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. And, now, to find a messenger.
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