“I don’t see why I should take it secondhand. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. “I can’t believe it. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. Kneebone, his impertinence was copied to the letter by Solomon. The man looked hard at him. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue.
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