Something of this he felt himself, for he was heard to mutter as he passed along the landing to his wife's sitting-room: "I am not the man I was.

I feel difficulties more"; and so he passed from sight.
Harry Luttrell turned then to Joan.
"Miss Whitworth," he began and got no further.

For the blood rushed up into the girl's face and she exclaimed in a trembling voice: "Colonel Luttrell, I trust that you are not going to ask me any questions." "Why ?" he asked, taken aback by the little touch of violence in her manner.
"Because, at twelve o'clock last night, I refused you the right to ask them." The words were not very generous.

They were meant to hurt and they did.
They were meant to put a sharp, quick end to any questioning; and in that, too, they succeeded.

Harry Luttrell bowed his head in assent and went out into the garden.