that time has now accustomed me to incidents of this
character among my acquaintance. But I was a little shocked.
Strickland was certainly forty, and I thought it disgusting
that a man of his age should concern himself with affairs of
the heart. With the superciliousness of extreme youth, I put
thirty-five as the utmost limit at which a man might fall in
love without making a fool of himself. And this news was
slightly disconcerting to me personally, because I had written
from the country to Mrs. Strickland, announcing my return, and
had added that unless I heard from her to the contrary,
I would come on a certain day to drink a dish of tea with her.
This was the very day, and I had received no word from Mrs.
Strickland. Did she want to see me or did she not? It was
likely enough that in the agitation of the moment my note had
escaped her memory. Perhaps I should be wiser not to go.
On the other hand, she might wish to keep the affair quiet,
and it might be highly indiscreet on my part to give any sign that
this strange news had reached me. I was torn between the fear
of hurting a nice woman's feelings and the fear of being in
the way. I felt she must be suffering, and I did not want to
see a pain which I could not help; but in my heart was a
desire, that I felt a little ashamed of, to see how she was
taking it. I did not know what to do.

Finally it occurred to me that I would call as though nothing
had happened, and send a message in by the maid asking Mrs.
Strickland if it was convenient for her to see me. This would
give her the opportunity to send me away. But I was
overwhelmed with embarrassment when I said to the maid the
phrase I had prepared, and while I waited for the answer in a
dark passage I had to call up all my strength of mind not to bolt.
The maid came back. Her manner suggested to my excited
fancy a complete knowledge of the domestic calamity.

"Will you come this way, sir?" she said.

I followed her into the drawing-room. The blinds were partly
drawn to darken the room, and Mrs. Strickland was sitting with
her back to the light. Her brother-in-law, Colonel MacAndrew,
stood in front of the fireplace, warming his back at an unlit fire.
To myself my entrance seemed excessively awkward. I imagined
that my arrival had taken them by surprise, and Mrs. Strickland
had let me come in only because she had forgotten to put me off.
I fancied that the Colonel resented the interruption.

"I