I intend to remain very serious indeed while I’m doing it. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. He remained talking with her however. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. He looked half at her and half at the sky. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort.
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