The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down.
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