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"I hope it's important, Clare," he said, "because well, you know, the morning's one's time for work, and once one gets off the track it's difficult to get back; not that I've done much, you know, only half a page but this kind of thing can't move quickly." "I'm sorry, Garrie," she answered, "but you've got to talk to me. There are things about which I want your advice."
I'm afraid that he may find Harry tiresome." "We must wait," Garrett said finally; "in a week's time we shall see better. But, Clare, don't be rash. There is father and, besides, it will scarcely help Robin." "Oh! no melodrama," she said, laughing and moving towards the door. "Only, we understand each other, Garrie. Things won't do as they are or, as they promise to be."
"Don't be worried, Garrie; I know it's horrid to disturb you, and there's really nothing only well, after all, there is only us, isn't there? for acting together I mean and I want to know what line you're going on." "Oh! about Harry?" He looked at her sharply for a moment. "You know that I object to lines, Clare. They are dangerous things." He implied that he was above them.
Sir Jeremy's wrinkled hand appeared from behind the rugs, and the two men shook in silence. Then Garrett came forward. "You're not much changed, Harry," he said with a laugh, "in spite of the twenty years." "Why, Garrie!" His brother stepped towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's splendid to see you again.
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