�Julia is no doubt right in attributing Ragwort�s unconquered virtue to the expression of aloof disapproval which he adopts when confronted with anything in the nature of a proposition. It is also true, however, that he can run extremely fast: on Sundays during the cricket season he is in great demand in his native Sussex village on account of his speed between the wickets. While Selena and I were still waiting impatiently at the kerbside for a safe passage through the traffic, Ragwort, with no worse mischief than might befall his immortal soul from the curses of a startled lorry driver, was across.

Selena�s impatience was, I confess, rather greater than my own. Little as I liked the prospect of the evening newspaper containing the headline �Barristers Shot in Fulham Fracas,� I did not think it would be improved by the insertion of the words �and Oxford Don.� This seemed to me precisely the sort of moment at which the proper course is to summon a constable. Unfortunately, there was none at hand; and Ragwort and Selena, with the impetuous enthusiasm of youth, seemed unlikely to wait until one arrived. I could not, I felt, with any semblance of decorum, remain on one side of the New King�s Road while the junior members of 62 New Square struggled with an armed maniac on the other.�

“Thus Was Adonis Murdered”