‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. “Let’s go in here. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. I burned it.
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