There were some deepseated fears of the rot spreading to England, if the simmering discontent of the peasantry of France were to erupt any further. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. " "Bah!" ejaculated Marvel, gruffly. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse.
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