Wood fancied he recognised. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. ‘I broke in. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. "Suppose he does. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. ‘Idiot. And now you are acting the cuckold, because I do not wish to waste my seed in your barren womb?\" She was too devastated to answer him.
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