you met m a tense episode, like that of the immaculate Cutty
crossing the fire escape with Two-Hawks on his shoulders!

She heard the friendly coal heaver going down the corridor to the
door. When he returned to the bedroom two men accompanied him. Not
a word was said. The two men marched off with the prisoners and
left Kitty alone with her saviour.

"Thank you," she said, simply.

"You poor little chicken, did you believe I had deserted you?" The
voice wasn't gruff now.

"Cutty?" Kitty ran to him, flinging her arms round his neck. "Oh,
Cutty!"

Cutty's heart, which had bumped along an astonishing number of
million times in fifty-two years, registered a memorable bump against
his ribs. The touch of her soft arms and the faint, indescribable
perfume which emanates from a dainty woman's hair thrilled him beyond
any thrill he had ever known. For Kitty's mother had never put her
arms round old Cutty's neck. Of course he understood readily enough:
Molly's girl, flesh of her flesh. And she had rushed to him as she
would have rushed to her father. He patted her shoulder clumsily,
still a little dazzled for all the revelation in the analysis. The
sweet intimacy of it! The door of Paradise opened for a moment, and
then shut in his face.

"I did not recognize you at all!" she cried, standing off. "I
shouldn't have known you on the street. And it is so simple. What