He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. “Limp,” he answered. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. “Very big steps, moves fast. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. Sheppard. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration.
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