“Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. I shall never come back. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. "I've got something to say to you," continued the speaker, rather less harshly; "something to your advantage; so come out o' your hiding-place, and let's have some supper, for I'm infernally hungry.
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