She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. His tongue was hot. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply.
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