"What for?" demanded Wood. Tinling & Co. And the hunter home from the hill. "Your sympathy is being wasted. He flung aside all his talk of help and disinterested friendship as though it had never been even a disguise between them, as though from the first it was no more than a fancy dress they had put quite understandingly upon their relationship. Oh, you cannot escape from it. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably.
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