"What?" asked Guildea.
"I was only quoting the last words of the text, which seems written upon life, especially upon the life of pleasure: 'Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labour.'"
"Ah, those fellows are not half bad fellows to have in an audience. There were a lot of them at the lecture I gave when I first met you, I remember. One of them tried to heckle me. He had a red beard. Chaps with red beards are always hecklers. I laid him low on that occasion. Well, Murchison, and now we're going to see."
"What?"
"Whether my companion has departed."
"Tell me—do you feel any expectation of—well—of again thinking something is there?"
"How carefully you choose language. No, I merely wonder."
"You have no apprehension?"
"Not a scrap. But I confess to feeling curious."
"Then the sea air hasn't taught you to recognise that the whole thing came from overstrain."