Peter came forward.
"Sorry, old man," he said. "I couldn't see. Look here——"
He put his hand on Henry's shoulder hesitating. "Oh, all right. Come in."
"What! don't you want me?" said Henry, instantly, as always, suspicious of an affront. "All right, I'll——"
"No, you silly cuckoo. Come in."
They passed in, and at once Henry perceived that something was different. What was different? He could not tell. . . .
He looked about him. Then in the middle of his curiosity the thought of his many troubles overcame him and he began:
"Peter, old man, I'm dreadfully landed. There's something that ought to be done and I don't know what it is. I never do know. It's Christina of course. I've just had the most awful scene with her mother; she's cursed me like a fishwife and forbidden me to come near the house again. Of course I knew that this was coming, but Christina warned me that when it did come it would mean that her mother had finally made up her mind to something and wasn't going to waste any time about it. . . . Well, where's Christina, and how am I to get at her? I don't know what's happening. They may be torturing her or anything. That woman's capable of. . . ."
He broke off, his eyes widening. The door from the inner room opened and a woman came out.
"Henry," said Peter, "let me introduce you. This is my wife."