chain’s length.
―Can you send them by tram? Now?
A darkbacked figure under Merchant’s arch scanned books on the hawker’s car.
―Certainly, sir. Is it in the city?
―O, yes, Blazes Boylan said. Ten minutes.
The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil.
―Will you write the address, sir?
Blazes Boylan at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her.
―Send it at once, will you? he said. It’s for an invalid.
―Yes, sir. I will, sir.
Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers’ pocket.
―What’s the damage? he asked.
The blond girl’s slim fingers reckoned the fruits.
Blazes Boylan looked into the cut of her blouse. A young