Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. "I'm prudence personified. Oh, what have you been about now?’ ‘There is no need to be concerned. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. I think that I am very fortunate to have it to sign. “I have scarcely left his side.
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