Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Apart from everything else, this meeting of ours is a breach of a good rule. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. “I say!” he said, without any movement. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. “What can I do?” “Go and see her. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it.
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