" "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. Now drop it. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. He's young and sound.
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