His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. ‘I live in Kent. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are. But though he visited Sir Rowland Trenchard's seat, Ashton Hall, he could gain no tidings of him, or of his uncle, Sir Rowland, who, it seems, has left the country.
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