That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. ” He looked down at his heavy Sears work boots as Mrs. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. Lucy sat beside him. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. She hesitated. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below.
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