” “I said I was all right. Ann Veronica watched him from the dining-room window, and after some moments of maidenly hesitation rambled out into the garden in a reverse direction to Mr. Then he did give way a bit. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. . Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. She was shifting, moving back. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis.
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