They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. Not a word passed between them. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. Sir John waved her back. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. She made a quick movement, and the hand fell away. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. You got to take the world as it is, and the only possible trade for a girl that isn’t sweated is to get hold of a man and make him do it for her. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen. “Happened! Oh, many things,” she declared indolently.
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