She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. But I will not believe you. How many ends had he? Well, she must cease to trouble herself for this imbecile, whom it would give her very much pleasure to shoot. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger.
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