It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. " "I'll have a look-see before I make any decision. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies. " Downstairs he sought the hotel manager. Or else I would have finished him.
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