Jackson. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. But an individual she never laid eyes on day before yesterday! And the minute he gets up, he'll head for the public bar. His hot juices coursed into her in quick bursts. But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. E. Petite build, like herself. One or the other.
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