" "I'll go with you," said Blueskin. Before his departure, he gave his assistant a glove. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. She would have to leave very soon. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. She paused for a moment.
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