’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. Love is one thing and friendship quite another. “I tell you it was a lie!” he shouted wildly. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. He had deliberately saved it for last. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “Hold on.
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