What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. She looked down at him and was amazed to see him erect again, amazed at the incredible virility that he possessed. ” “Much better,” she agreed. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known.
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