O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. The tension was palpable. What was the matter with Spurlock that was to keep him in bed three or four weeks? He would dig that out of the hotel manager. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me. It began as a joke.
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