This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again. " The Wastrel rushed. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. ” “Nor I. By George, I forgot! McClintock said there was a typewriter in the office and that I could have it. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet.
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