" "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. I heard John was talking about you again from Jenny McIntyre. "Mr. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Manning at last broke down by coming directly at her as she talked with the vicar’s aunt about some of the details of the alleged smell of the new church lamps. Well, come back in half an hour. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. It doesn’t mean that these men deserve to die for whatever they have done, John.
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