“Mr. ’ ‘But Gérard knows. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. And, decently as he could, McClintock was giving the man the boot. ” The stranger came over to them smiling. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. . She felt that she was not alone. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things.
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