His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. “All your dreadful scientific things?” he said, with a smile that Miss Klegg thought extraordinarily kindly. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. You have told me that you cared. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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