The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. Would there be enough in the young man's envelope to pay the doctor and the hotel bill—and in the event of his death, enough to ship the body home? So all things pointed to the happy circumstance of setting this young fool upon his feet again, of seeing him hence upon his journey.
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