"Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. “I expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements did not allow of it. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. “So is Mr. ” “They know you better,” he declared. “A Socialist of the order of John Ruskin. ” 243 She felt a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation, and pride well up in her cheeks, flushing them.
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