“Bit thick on the old man, isn’t it?” said Roddy, who had developed a bluff, straightforward style in the motor shop. She struggled against it quite uselessly. Then she moved towards the door. He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. He did not have to. She was gathering quite a crowd in her newfound popularity, and the phenomenon was so apparent she could almost form her own harem of young boys. "Instantly, Hobson," returned Lady Trafford; "as soon as the carriage can be brought round. You can pull it over on everybody else, Lucy, but not on me.
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