She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. ” She stopped. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. .
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