‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. " "Of what am I accused?" asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage.
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