“How did you find me?” He asked. 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. Almost at the same moment the door opened and Brendon entered, followed by the doctor. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking.
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