The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. “Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. Spurlock. Wood among them?" asked Jack, eagerly.
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