"Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. It may not be just, it may not be fair, but things are so. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. . . . ’ Hilary’s brows shot up. You see—I didn’t understand. Wood, who had merely absented himself to see that a public breakfast, which he had ordered at the Six Bells for all who chose to partake of it, was in readiness. ‘Very well, arrest me. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed.
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