Olva escaped Bunning's pleading eyes, found his gown amongst a heap in the corner, and avoiding Mr.
Gregg's pressing invitation to stay, plunged down the stairs.

Behind him, then, making his heart leap into his mouth, was a slow, thick voice.
"I say, Dune, what do you say to a little drink in my room after all that muck ?" Above him, in the dark shadow of the stair, loomed Lawrence's thick body.
"I shall be delighted," Olva said.
Lawrence came lumbering down.

He always spoke as though words were a difficulty to him.

He left out any word that was not of vital necessity.
"Muck that-awful muck.

What do they want gettin' a piffler like that kid in the glasses to read his ideas?
Ain't got any--not one--no more 'an I have." They reached the Court--it swam softly in the moonlight--stars burnt, here and there, in a trembling sky.
Lawrence put his great arm through Olva's.