‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. “Excuse me a moment. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. . We shall be equally matched. “Let me help you,” he begged.
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