But his eyes were on the Frenchman, and as Valade moved up the other road a little way, the lad shifted alertly, and swiftly closed the distance to the intersection. Then she reverted to the trousers. So you are Prudence Remenham. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face.
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