In the light of present understanding, then, if by the mere wish he could blot out not only the remembrance of this weakness but the actuality of it, he would wish the wish?
No reply.
Eh? He would wish the wish at once—was n't that so?
Still no reply.
Perhaps he had n't quite understood. Put it another way. Suppose, since the doings of these latter days were not entirely creditable to him, when viewed dispassionately, was he prepared to wish that he had never come to Cliff Wrangham?
He could n't honestly wish that. It was n't fair to Cliff Wrangham or the Dixons. He 'd had a very happy time there and done good work. Cliff Wrangham was n't to blame.
Since Cliff Wrangham was n't to blame, then, would he be prepared to wish that he had never come across the post-girl?
He 'd have been bound to come across her.
Not if, for instance, she 'd been ill, and somebody else had brought the letters.
He would n't wish anybody ill for the mere sake of saving his conscience.