It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders. Confidence in himself would strengthen him. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. He's a cutie. P.
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