Since the night at the Brilliant, when he had left the
theatre so suddenly, and gone home on the plea of illness, he had never
been quite the same man. He looked years older--he was strangely nervous
and timid--and he shrank away from Thelma as though he were some guilty
or tainted creature. Surprised at this, she spoke to her husband about
it,--but he, hurriedly, and with some embarrassment, advised her to "let
him alone"--his "nerves were shaken"--his "health was feeble"--and that
it would be kind on her part to refrain from noticing him or asking him
questions. So she refrained--but Neville's behavior puzzled her all the
same. When they left town, he implored, almost piteously, to be allowed
to remain behind,--he could attend to Sir Philip's business so much
better in London, he declared, and he had his way. Errington, usually
fond of Neville's society, made no attempt whatever to persuade him
against his will,--so he stayed in the half-shut-up house in Prince's
Gate through all the summer heat, poring over parliamentary documents
and pamphlets,--and Philip came up from the country once a fortnight to
visit him, and transact any business that might require his personal
attention.
Pages:
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661