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"No," he smiled. "Oh, well, there's plenty to choose from here. And they're very nice respectable girls, some of them. I expect you'll have a girl before you've been here long." She looked at him very archly. "Meet 'em 'alf-way," said Mrs. Hodges. "That's what I tell him." It was nearly eleven o'clock, and the party broke up. Philip could not get to sleep.
"Meet 'em 'alf-way," she said, "same as I do." This was Mrs. Hodges, a little woman of five-and-forty, with badly dyed hair; she had a yellow face with a network of small red veins all over it, and yellow whites to her pale blue eyes. She took a fancy to Philip and called him by his Christian name before he had been in the shop a week. "We've both known what it is to come down," she said.
"Ha! jest so, about 'alf-way to the willage of Ramplin', w'ere you slep' last night, if report speaks true, an' w'ere you left the grey tweeds, unless, p'r'aps, you sunk 'em in the old quarry." "Why, what on earth do you mean?" asked Miles, with a look of such genuine surprise that Redhair was puzzled, and the man with the hooked nose, who had been listening attentively, looked slightly confused.
"You didn't start to tell me about Mr. O'Halloran." "No. He wasn' your sort at all; and besides, he's dead. But about Black Sultan Miss Montagu used to rest 'im, 'alf-way in his turn, while the clown they called Bimbo but his real name was Ernest Stanley as't a riddle about a policeman and a red 'errin' in a newspaper.
Then came the favourite and her stable-companion, rising fence for fence; after them a chain of stragglers; and bringing up the rear, rollicking along with his head in his chest, revelling in his work, the twenty-to-one outsider. "So far so good," said Mat, "as the man said when he was 'alf-way through cuttin' his throat."
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