"I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. "But I happen to be an honest man myself. ‘Never mind where. We'll have him yet. Sheppard, meekly. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. Away in London even now Capes was packing and preparing; Capes, the magic man whose touch turned one to trembling fire. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre.
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