But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. ” He panted. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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