Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. It was true. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. “A sex of blacklegging clients. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. He declined supper, but took wine. He reached over and took her hand. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection.
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