He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. But how far could he fly on a few hundred? True, he might find a job somewhere; but every footstep from behind…! "Who is she? Where does she come from?" "You mean Miss Enschede?" "Yes. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park.
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