"Stringer—would you mind?" he asked.
"Not at all!"
"I don't feel . . . very fit, this morning," murmured Gran'pa, apologetically. "I think I overdid it yesterday."
"For a man of your age," said Stringer, "I don't know how you kept going as you did. A day's rest will do you good."
So Stringer went, and Gran'pa moved restlessly about the house, like a man on the border of a nervous breakdown.
"I'm inclined to think that you overtaxed your strength at that meeting," I said.
"It isn't that. It's this . . . terrible suspense. My God, George, women are the very devil—even when they are angels!"
"You mustn't worry. Go and see her."
"I promised that I wouldn't until she wrote."
"It's quite possible that she has missed the first post. Wait till to-morrow. Meanwhile, come with me this morning. It'll stop your brooding."