“You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself.
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