“I shall have to give up biology, anyhow. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. I somehow understood. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. But he reckoned without his host. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards.
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