So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. He donned his winter coat. He moved to one side, bowing and gesturing to the door. ‘You have come to me in place of Gérard? But how is it you will help me?’ ‘That’s all right and tight. ” “Can’t we arrange something? Can’t we make a sort of treaty?” “He wouldn’t keep it. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience.
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