"Relating to the father of the boy—Thames Darrell," supplied Jonathan. He stood completely still as she moved her tongue up and down its shaft. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. "I've got something to say to you," continued the speaker, rather less harshly; "something to your advantage; so come out o' your hiding-place, and let's have some supper, for I'm infernally hungry. The skipper obeyed, and in another moment, they swept through the narrow lock. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge.
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