“Do you want a swipe on the jaw?” she demanded.
No, he did not. What had he done, he would like to know.
“You mind your own business,” she said. “Where am I goin’, indeed. What’s it got to do with you?”
The episode was valuable to the listening barrister. It classified the anxious inquirer after Hume’s health.
Her abashed admirer hung back, and the girl resumed her onward progress. The man was conscious that the gentleman behind him must have heard what passed. He endeavoured to justify himself.
“She’s pretty O.T., she is,” he grinned.
“Do you know her?” said Brett.
“I know her by sight. Seen her in the York now an’ then.”
“She can evidently take care of herself.”
“Ra—ther. Don’t you so much as look at her, mister, or off goes your topper into the river. She’s in a bad temper to-night.”