‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. The Supper at Mr. " "Well, for my part," observed Mrs. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. Sorry to be so nosy. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away.
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