She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. "I want to speak to Edgeworth Bess myself. . ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Humph!" "What's the matter?" "Sh!" Spurlock passed by on the way to the bar. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. A detective will be here in a few moments to make inquiries into this affair. “Excellent!” he exclaimed.
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