She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. I don’t care what else there is in the world. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love. In lieu of it, he still adhered to the sleek black crop, which, throughout life, formed a distinguishing feature in his appearance. If we don’t live it will think we are afraid of it. But go on. Sometimes I am frightfully busy; and then there will be periods of dullness.
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