But I give you this warning, and let it sink in. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. No mercenary consideration influences me. She fidgeted and looked away. "By G—! she has missed her footing. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind.
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