"Now you say so——" Neeld shook his head. "I hope he'll do it tactfully," he sighed.
Edge did not seem to consider that likely. He in his turn shook his head.
"I said no more than I thought about Addie Tristram," he remarked. "But the fact is, they're a rum lot, and there's no getting over it, Neeld."
"They—er—have their peculiarities, no doubt," admitted Mr. Neeld.
XXVI
A Business Call
"My dear, isn't there something odd about Mr Neeld?" Mrs Iver put the question, her anxious charity struggling with a natural inquisitiveness.