’ ‘I have found Mary Remenham’s daughter,’ he repeated. “You have forgotten. 48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. Before you know where you are you find yourself in a complication. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. So I ran away, blindly, knowing nothing of the world outside. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. I saw him lying on the footway.
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