I'm
sure I only want to be friendly in the matter. As I said before, we're in
the same box, you and me, so to speak. That ought to make us tender
towards one another, oughtn't it? One losing his son and the other his
daughter.
"Such a good girl as she was too. Certainly I'll be going, Archdeacon;
leave you to think it over a bit. I daresay you'll see my point of view in
time."
"I think, Mr. Hogg, there's nothing to be gained by your coming here. You
shall hear from me."
"Well, as to that, Archdeacon," Hogg turned from the half-opened door,
smiling, "that's as may be. One can get further sometimes in a little talk
than in a dozen letters. And I'm really not much of a letter-writer. But
we'll see 'ow things go on. Good-evenin'."
The talk had lasted but five minutes, and every piece of furniture in the
room, the chairs, the table, the carpet, the pictures, seemed to have upon
it some new stain of disfigurement. Even the windows were dimmed.
Brandon sat staring in front of him. The door opened again and his wife
came in.
"That was Samuel Hogg who has just left you?"
"Yes," he said.
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