‘But of course. ” The official frowned. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. “Guineas, of course,” Mr. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff.
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