once unexpeditious.

An effort at commonplace conversation was maintained at dinner. Ludowika
openly discussed the arrangements for their return to London. Felix
Winscombe had rallied from the night; his wife said that it was
difficult to restrain him. The most comfortable provisions, she
continued, had been made for their passage on the _Lindamira_. Howat
heard her without resentment. He had no wish to contradict her
needlessly even in thought; he was immovably fixed. Mr. Winscombe's
debilitated return had completely upset his intentions. An entirely
different proceeding would now be demanded, but with an identical end.
What pity he felt for the elder had no power to reach or alter his
passion.

He returned to the counting house, and worked methodically through the
afternoon, with an increasing sense of being involved in an irresistible
movement. This gave him a feeling almost of tranquillity; from the
beginning he had not been responsible. In the face of illness the
Italian servant proved utterly undependable; he cringed, stricken with
dread, from the spectacle of suffering. And when late in the day Mr.
Winscombe, partially drugged with opium, grew consciously weaker,
Howat's assistance was required.

Ludowika now remained in the room with her husband, and there was a
discreet movement in and out by various members of the household.
Isabel Penny remained for an hour, Caroline took her place, Myrtle
fluttered uncertainly in the doorway. Through the evening Felix
Winscombe lay propped on pillows, his head covered by a black gros de
Naples cap. His keen personality waned and revived on his long, yellow
countenance. At one side wigs stood in a row on blocks, a brilliant,