"How so?" asked Wild, curiously. "The doctor said something about that. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. . Do you understand?” “I do not,” he answered.
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