I resumed my reading.

"--for the usual reason, a woman. If it wasn't for women what a
thundering amount of work a man could get through. Anyhow--I'm
coming back, with an encumbrance. A wife. Not my wife, thank
Olympus, but another man's wife--"

"Poor old devil!" cried Adrian. "I knew he would come a mucker one
of these days!"

"Wait," said I, and I read--

"--poor Prescott's wife. I don't think you ever knew Prescott, but
he was a good sort. He died of typhoid. Only quaggas and yaks and
other iron-gutted creatures like myself can stand Albania. I'm
escorting her to England, so look out for us. How's everybody? Do
you ever hear of Adrian? If so, collar him. I want to work the
widow off on him. She has a goodish deal of money and is a kind of
human dynamo. The best thing in the world for Adrian."

Adrian confounded the fellow. I continued--

"Prepare then for the Dynamic Widow. Love to Barbara, the fairy
grasshopper--"

"Who's that?"

"My daughter, Susan Freeth. The last time he saw her, she was
hopping about in a green jumper--Barbara would give you the