"Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. Plote was sleeping or deaf. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. I was reduced to 170 a fool, for there were many pretty women from all walks of life in that teeming city. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on.
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