With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. I might have known it. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. ‘A word, if you please, my friend.
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