“Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. . So he was forced to shift and proceed at another angle, forgetting his promise to McClintock to be temperate. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death.
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