She had trouble outwitting him as he seemed to predict her words before he said them. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne.
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