What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. He was bewildered. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable.
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