The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide.
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