She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. But I liked to say it. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. "You do love me?" "God knows how much!" Suddenly he laid his head on her shoulder. Saint Giles's Round-house XIII.
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