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"I want to speak to Edgeworth Bess myself. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. He raised her to a sitting position. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them.
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