“I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. She loves you too well for that. ” “Yes, but you forget; how am I to live?” “Easily. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage.
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