He would know the truth then once and for all. "By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. "I'll tackle it to-night!" "But it's after ten!" "What's that got to do with it? … The roofs of the native huts scattering in the wind! … the absolute agony of the twisting palms!….
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