" "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. His eyes closed. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before. A big breakfast is healthier anyway, so they say. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. I want to get away—to go to London. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft.
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