Which, if we are not all of us very careful indeed, will be stolen from Miss Charvill. To-night we leave for Marseilles. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle.
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