"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. He dissected rather awkwardly and hurriedly, but, on the whole, effectively, and drew with an impatient directness that made up in significance what it lacked in precision. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. “What he had was altogether insufficient. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. ” Ann Veronica gave him a pallid profile. His guardian angel warned Spurlock to speak carefully. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. “I love some one else. You do not believe me. ” He went to the window and fidgeted with the blind, looking out to where the tree-tops of Regent’s Park showed distantly over the houses. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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