"The wide world.
Should like, for instance, a roving commission such as yours--to look for a scoundrel with a lot of money-bags, who may be in London or Timbuctoo." I walked on in silence, never having had quick speech or the habit of unburthening my soul to the first listener.
"Not likely to stay in London in November if he is a man of sense as well as enterprise," he added, jerking up the fur collar of his coat.
We walked on a little farther.
"Suppose you have no notion where he is ?" said my bland companion, to which I made no articulate reply.
"_Do_ you know ?" he asked at length, as one in a corner.
"Do you _want_ to know ?" retorted I.
"Oh--no," with a laugh.
"That is well," said I finally.

And we walked on for a space in silence, when my companion changed the conversation with that ease of manner under the direct snub which only comes from experience.

Mr.
Devar was certainly a good-natured person, for he forgave my rudeness as soon as it was uttered.
I know not exactly how he compassed it, but he restored peace so effectually that before we reached Hyde Park Street he had forced me to invite him to lunch with me at my club on the following Saturday.
This world is certainly for the thick-skinned.
We entered Isabella's drawing-room, therefore, together, and a picture of brotherly love.
"Force of good example," explained Mr.Devar airily.

"I saw Howard walking and walked with him." There were assembled the house-party only, Devar and I being the guests of the evening.

Isabella frowned as we entered together.