"Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. He was heartily thankful for it. She gloried in it: he needed her. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. Stay where you are, Mr. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back; but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly. CHAPTER X.
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