Personally, however, I doubt if—’ ‘Charvill?’ interrupted Gerald without ceremony, all his senses at once on the alert. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. No, don’t interrupt me. They sucked face and felt each other up, or something. "Oh gracious! he's lost. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal.
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