“The usual amateurs. I am tired to death; are you coming to bed?”
Parker Steel looked at the clock, and sighed.
“I shall not be wanted till about five,” he said. “Confound these guinea babies. I hope to build a tariff wall round myself when we are more independent.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And Mrs. Fraser?”
“Safe in the other camp, dear.”
Parker Steel was dropping off to sleep that night when he felt his wife’s hand upon his shoulder. He turned with a grunt, and saw her white face dim amid her cloud of hair.
“Anything wrong?”
“No. Do you believe in Murchison, Parker?”
“Believe in him?”