“Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. “One can’t tell. “I will go,” he said. What do you mean by it, eh?’ ‘But I did not send it to you,’ Melusine rejoined instantly. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. "Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you.
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