"How is that?"
"The whole look of you. You aren't the same man you were, five months ago. Mentally and physically, you're sleeker."
Brenton laughed.
"Is that a sign of wisdom?"
The doctor met the question with composure.
"As a general thing, yes. The normal being is sleek by nature. It's only when he cramps himself that he gets wrinkled. Cramps himself, I say. Cramping from an outside source never has much effect upon him, unless he chooses to have it. No; that's not Christian Science; it's mere common sense. As a rule, the two things are incompatible. By the way, I hear that your ex-curate has been tackling your wife."
"No!"
"A fact. The boy told me. She started out to tackle him, and he clinched with her. I must say it was plucky of him, even if it didn't appear to do much good."
Brenton's gray eyes clouded.
"The only question is: what is good," he said thoughtfully.