Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. 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. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. I'll try the effect of a jolly stave.
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