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"Well, who'd have thought of Shotbolt beating us all in this way!" said Ireton. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex.
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