"
Things were going worse and worse.
Sir John smiled, and he was still smiling when the man brought in
coffee.
"Yes," he said conversationally, "for speed combined with discomfort
I suppose we can hold up heads against any country. Seeing that you
are dressed, I supposed that you had dined in town."
"No. I drove straight to my rooms, and kept the cab while I
dressed."
What an important matter this dressing seemed to be! And there were
fifteen months behind it--fifteen months which had aged one of them
and sobered the other.
Jack was sitting forward in his chair with his immaculate dress-
shoes on the fender--his knees apart, his elbows resting on them,
his eyes still fixed on the fire. Sir John looked keenly at him
beneath his frowning, lashless lids. He saw the few grey hairs over
Jack's ears, the suggested wrinkles, the drawn lines about his
mouth.
"You have been ill?" he said.
Joseph's letter was locked away in the top drawer of his writing-
table.
"Yes, I had rather a bad time--a serious illness. My man nursed me
through it, however, with marked success; and--the Gordons, with
whom I was staying, were very kind."
"I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Gordon."
Jack's face was steady--suavely impenetrable.
Sir John moved a little, and set his empty cup upon the table.
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