She pulled him towards the bed. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. But how far could he fly on a few hundred? True, he might find a job somewhere; but every footstep from behind…! "Who is she? Where does she come from?" "You mean Miss Enschede?" "Yes. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Wood, in indignant surprise. He had not to wait long.
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