He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. "Good night, Master. I don’t play anything. ” He smiled at her. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. Women, she had been taught, who exposed the flesh of their bodies under the eyes of man were in a special catagory of the damned.
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