\" She said, bashful. Gerald’s temper flared. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. But you couldn't. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it. The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. If she mentioned Ramage he might have a fit—anything might happen. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man.
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