really narrow or a Pharisee, only in contentious mood and cruel under the pressure of my own harrow. "Probably anything she suffered served her right," I added indifferently.
"It all happened afterwards. I thought you knew," he said incoherently.
"I know nothing except that you are always talking of Margaret Capel, and I am a little tired of the subject," I answered pettishly. "Who was the man?"
"The man!"
"Yes, the man who came up and down to see her?"
"Gabriel Stanton."
"Gabriel Stanton!" I sat upright in my chair; that really startled me. "Gabriel Stanton," I repeated, and then, stupidly enough: "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. But I won't talk about it any more since it bores you. The house is so haunted for me, and you seemed so sympathetic, so interested. You won't let me doctor you."
"You haven't tried very hard, have you?"
"You put me off whenever I try to ask you how you are, or any questions."
"What is the good? I've seen twelve London doctors."
"London has not the monopoly of talent." He took up his hat, and then my hand.
