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He thought for a moment, and went on: “Love is something that has to be taken care of. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. Suddenly she understood. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Yon must be mine to-night.
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