You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. He could not doubt it. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated.
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