"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. ” She stopped. I would do anything—I would give anything to make you mine. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued.
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