Kneebone's. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch. Offer to return it to each in private. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. CHAPTER XIII.
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