The latch had not fully caught. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. ‘Precisely. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. We both understood that. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. But if his frame was immature, his looks were not so. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how.
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