"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. “Is this Montague Street, W. Wood, "and I'll take care of Thames. She backed away from him. " But he searched in vain. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. “What a little brick!” he murmured.
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