She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. "I was only commenting. The gallows has groaned for him for years. They’ll know. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. . . I must have something in hand. “It’s a great deal for a young lady who’s alone in the world, as I suppose you are at present, to have a respectable home, and I do not think in such a case that private apartments are at all desirable. ‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair.
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