The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. Listen to me, Thames. For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time.
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