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The guards had great difficulty in preserving a clear passage without resorting to severe measures, for the tide, which poured upon them behind, around, in front, and at all sides, was almost irresistible. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. It makes wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good enough for Punch.
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