” “Mr. . It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. He nodded silently, too full for words.
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