Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his attention. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. Rowland's plans were quickly formed, and as quickly executed. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed.
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