” Sheila scolded, but Lucy had invented a dozen reasons why she had to have her own hamper until finally Sheila got tired of it and relented. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said.
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