She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. What you said wanted saying. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. ’ ‘To be sure I do,’ said Gerald swiftly. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind.
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