’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. Remember that he’s not at all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he’s your salvation. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding.
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