“Yes, to wash out the memory of that boy!”
“Rather a roundabout way to go to work; if you don’t look out Pat’s heart will be sound long before your digestive organs are.”
“Never mind, they haven’t a tinge of Americanism about them, they haven’t so much as caught the accent. But how can you keep on being so hopeful of Gwen? I am downright miserable about her.”
“I have the greatest trust in the girl, my feeling about her is like faith, it is inexplicable, but it’s so natural, so instinctive and ingrained one feels its truth.”
“I suppose in the end she will marry,” said Mrs. Fellowes, “it’s the natural end or beginning of her.”
“Then—well, it’s not a very original observation to make, but it’s the only one that comes to my mind—God help her!”
“God help him more! Poor wretch, he’ll want it all!”
CHAPTER XV.
Humphrey Strange gave a sort of snort, made for the window, and threw it open.
“Gru! This room is beastly, I’ll swear that window hasn’t been open for a month, the whole place is fusty with mildew. The beggar is drunk or the wire was delayed—I’ll have a fire anyway.”