Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. In the afternoon she had considered certain doubts very carefully, and decided on a more emphatic course of action. The man was my husband. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly.
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