Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. " He then spoke authoritatively to the girl. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. The trip took a full day. His car was there. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. ’ Gerald was relieved to hear the loud guffaw issuing from the old man’s lips.
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