That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. "Allow me to assist you, Sir James," said Hogarth. “I am off to-night,” he said. I'll see her myself; and that's more than she bargained for, I'll be sworn. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. Hobson was not 147 amused by the situation, which handled wrongly, could lose him his job. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think.
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