He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. The manager twisted his moustache. He was in love with her! She tried to grasp all the welter of values in the situation simultaneously, and draw some conclusion from their disorder. ‘But a spy I am not. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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