Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. The Wastrel did not relish this. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. ’ Hilary stared at him. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood.
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