What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. Then the storm broke. ‘It is of no use to try to stop me. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ’ For the space of half a minute, Gerald continued to scowl in silent frustration. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. That paper must be signed, or I take my departure.
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