I am quite sure I told you about it at the time, St.George," and he laid his hand on his host's shoulder.
"There was no need of stretching it, Latrobe," remarked Richard Horn in his low, incisive voice, his eyes on Kennedy's face, although he was speaking to the counsellor.

"You and Kennedy did the world a great service at the right moment.

Many a man of brains--one with something new to say--has gone to the wall and left his fellow men that much poorer because no one helped him into the Pool of Healing at the right moment." (Dear Richard!--he was already beginning to understand something of this in his own experience.) Todd's entrance interrupted the talk for a moment.

His face was screwed up into knots, both eyes lost in the deepest crease.

"Fo' Gawd, Marse George," he whispered in his master's ear--"dem woodcock'll be sp'iled if dat gemman don't come!" St.George shook his head: "We will wait a few minutes more, Todd.