I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. ’ What would you tell her?” “If she asked advice, I should say she wasn’t fit to do anything of the sort. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. The Jew got in first. "Your sympathy is being wasted. " CHAPTER V. I’m a soldier, you see. . “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason.
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