I
didn’t understand before that letter. The latter looked very pale, either from
the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed
emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. “You’re not
interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. She would ignore him. She said”—Ann Veronica shivered again—“‘I hope
it won’t make you uncomfortable, my dear’—like that—‘and whatever you do,
do be careful of your hair!’ I think—I judge from her manner—that she thought
it was just a little indelicate of us—considering everything; but she tried to be
practical and sympathetic and live down to our standards. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you
dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in
the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case
under his arm. While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked
around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in
Jonathan's threat of sending him to the round-house, and apprehensive of
something even worse than imprisonment. “Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. He hesitated.
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