132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. What happened at Dollis Hill. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart.
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