"Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case. “I’m going to kill your weakness for you. ” Drummond, a few years older, dark, clean-shaven, with bright eyes and humorous mouth, laid down his paper and turned towards Sir John. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town.
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