CHAPTER XXIII. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. I MUST pay off that forty pounds. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. They had been informally introduced during floor hockey, when Katy had sent a puck flying into Lucy’s face. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Now if she sent fifteen pounds the suggestion that she had spent a five-pound note in the meanwhile would be irresistible. Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer.
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