Groans and hoots were now raised by the crowd, and there was an evident disposition to rescue. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick.
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