"You," answered Jack, abruptly. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. " ***** "To me, you dirty blackguard!" cried Spurlock, flinging aside his helmet. “What are you doing?” he asked.
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