"I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. So far the thing was acceptable enough. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. I thought that he was dead. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. She gloried in it: he needed her. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel.
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