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He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. ” “Impudent beggars,” Sydney growled. I was raised in the Church. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked.
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