The address, curiously enough,
was that very Cadogan Terrace at which I had lodged, but
two doors higher up.
Well, I was averse from going myself, but Winnie was
all for peace and forgiveness. Women who claim nothing
invariably get everything, and so my gentle little wife
always carries her point. Half an hour later I was in
Cadogan Terrace with very mixed feelings, but the
kindlier ones at the top. I tried to think that
Cullingworth's treatment of me had been pathological--the
result of a diseased brain. If a delirious man had
struck me, I should not have been angry with him. That
must be my way of looking at it.
If Cullingworth still bore any resentment, he
concealed it most admirably. But then I knew by
experience that that genial loud-voiced John-Bull manner
of his COULD conceal many things. His wife was more
open; and I could read in her tightened lips and cold
grey eyes, that she at least stood fast to the old
quarrel. Cullingworth was little changed, and seemed to
be as sanguine and as full of spirits as ever.
"Sound as a trout, my boy!" he cried, drumming on
his chest with his hands. "Played for the London
Scottish in their opening match last week, and was on the
ball from whistle to whistle. Not so quick on a sprint--
you find that yourself, Munro, eh what?--but a good hard-
working bullocky forward. Last match I shall have for
many a day, for I am off to South America next week.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290