"I should never have been what I am, but for you. Gerald sighed. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. “I expected you this morning,” he said. He thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill.
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