"Perhaps. But you can't expect a man who has been into Paradise to be exactly happy when he is thrust outside."
Clinton took up the evening paper without comment. Merefleet had never before spoken so openly to him. He realised that the man's loneliness must oppress him heavily indeed thus to master his reserve.
"What news?" said Merefleet, after a pause.
"Nothing," said Clinton. "Plague on the Continent. Railway mishap on the Great Northern. Another American Disaster."
"What's that?" said Merefleet with a touch of interest.
"Electric car accident. Ralph Warrender among the victims."
"Warrender! What! Is he dead?"
"Yes. Killed instantaneously. Did you know him?"
"I have met him in business. I wasn't intimate with him."
"Isn't he the man whose first wife was killed in a railway accident?" said Clinton reflectively, glad to have diverted Merefleet's thoughts. "I thought so. I met her once and was so smitten with her that I purchased her portrait forthwith. The most marvellous woman's face I ever saw. The man I got it from spoke of her with the most appalling enthusiasm. 'Mab Warrender!' he said. 'If she is not the loveliest woman in U.S., I guess the next one would strike us blind.' Here! I'll show it you. Netta wants me to frame it."