He pretended to be unaware of the mishap. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. "Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train.
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