"I am glad that you have had the sense to go to him," she said. "Tell me, are you just run down, on is there anything more serious the matter?
"Nothing serious at all," he answered. "I have had a great deal to do, and no holiday during the past year, so I suppose I am a little tired."
"You look like a ghost," she said. "You have been overworking yourself ridiculously. Now, will you be so good as to tell me why you have never been to see us?"
"I have been nowhere," he answered. "My work has claimed my undivided attention."
"Nonsense," she answered. "You have been living for a year within a shilling cab ride of us, and you have not once even called. I really wonder that I am sitting here with you, as though prepared to forgive you. Do you know that I have written you three times asking you to come to tea?"
He turned a very white face upon her.
"Won't you understand," he said, "that I have been engrossed in a work which would admit of no distractions?
"You could find time to go down to Medchester, and make speeches for your friend Mr. Bullsom," she answered.
"That was different. I was deeply indebted to Mr. Bullsom, and anxious to see him returned. That, too, was work. It is only pleasures which I have denied myself."
"That," she remarked, "is the nicest—in fact, the only nice thing you have said. You have changed since Enton."