The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. It’s a world in which the law can be a stupid pig and the police-stations dirty dens. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. I wish that it worked. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. I have a good memory, you perceive, Sir Rowland. Anyhow, he did not sentimentalize her. .
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