“It is from a child,” he said as casually as he could, stepping up to his mother’s side and waving the letter in front of her. He felt a tremendous reluctance to let her read it; and yet, being the woman she was, he dared not put it straight into his pocket. Nothing of this was hidden from Mrs. Solent; but she had had her little victory in the matter of Miss Gault, and she was in a mood to be indulgent now.

“All right, Wolf, put it into your pocket. I don’t want to see it. I expect you’ll find much nicer barmaids in Blacksod than you ever did in Hammersmith. I won’t interfere with your light-o’-loves. I never have , have I?”