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“I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. But these fears, like those he had recently experienced, speedily vanished, and he prepared to return to the roof, congratulating himself that owing to the opportune falling of the bricks, he had in all probability escaped serious injury. Hang the wench! Roding was right. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. CHAPTER XXIII. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. There was a girlfriend who was mentally ill.
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