It was his turn to express astonishment. He seemed to deliberate. When first you left your home you had no idea that I was the hidden impulse. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. I mean my cut-offs and boots. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. My profession has hardened me.
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