Mr. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. “Go on!” she commanded. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt.
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