It hurts me, Mr. Munro, to see the only man in the
world towards whom he has any feeling of friendship,
misunderstanding him so completely, for very often when
you say nothing your face shows very clearly what you
think."
I could only answer lamely that I was very sorry if
I had misjudged her husband in any way, and that no one
had a keener appreciation of some of his qualities than
I had.
"I saw how gravely you looked when he told you that
absurd story about pushing a little boy into the water,"
she continued; and, as she spoke, she drew from somewhere
in the front of her dress a much creased slip of
paper. "Just glance at that, please, Dr. Munro."
It was a newspaper cutting, which gave the true
account of the incident. Suffice it that it was an ice
accident, and that Cullingworth had really behaved in a
heroic way and had been drawn out himself insensible,
with the child so clasped in his arms that it was not
until he had recovered his senses that they were able to
separate them. I had hardly finished reading it when we
heard his step on the stairs; and she, thrusting the
paper back into her bosom, became in an instant the same
silently watchful woman as ever.
Is he not a conundrum? If he interests you at a
distance (and I take for granted that what you say in
your letters is not merely conventional compliment) you
can think how piquant he is in actual life. I must
confess, however, that I can never shake off the feeling
that I am living with some capricious creature who
frequently growls and may possibly bite.
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