“But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. The man was dangerous. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. The first was to break a dinner engagement. Mike had suffered severe depression in his first years with the Becks, but had grown to think of them as his natural family to the degree that his past seemed like a distant memory.
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