Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. \"Awww, sounds like puppy love to me. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. ‘But a spy I am not. . I have an engagement with a theatrical agent—I believe for the ‘Unusual’.
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