Wood started to his feet. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in.
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