‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. On Saturday he went to that there Mr Charvill’s house. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again.
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