CHAPTER XXII. ” He looked at her with white, set face. Considering his convictions he felt that his remark was a generous one. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. behind the Laundromat. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved.
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