But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. Maggot had disappeared. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Amongst them was a revolver. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out.
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