Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. "She wouldn't let me go. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate. On the Day he had trumpet-like outbreaks of cordiality, varied by a watchful preoccupation. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs.
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