"I'll be their substitute. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. “How’s Mrs. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. Been making herself at home all right. ’ ‘Precisely. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. He was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. You have taken even my knife. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. Years ago I marked out an intinerary for myself; but the trip never materialized. Trenchard glanced at the document.
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