“You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. Let us be gone. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. Aware that not a moment was to be lost, if he meant to render any effectual assistance to the child, he ceased shouting, and defending himself in the best way he could from the attacks of Rowland, by whom he was closely pressed, forced his way, in spite of all opposition, to Davies, and dealt him a blow on the head with such good will that, had it not been for the intervention of the wall, the ruffian must have been prostrated. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb.
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