" "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. ’ ‘Pah! How can it be romantic? That is silly. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. "Get about your business!" "Thames!" cried Jack, beckoning to his friend. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. She had called the police on them anonymously. Arrived there, the porter thundered at the massive door of the Lodge, which was instantly opened—Shotbolt's note having been received just before.
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