Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. He did everything. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude.
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