A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. " "I will," replied Sheppard, dashing the glass from his hand. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. "I will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, "or our agreement is void.
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