alkalis. In what way does he touch on the subject? With bitterness or
curiosity?

'Both, I should say. For one thing he is most 'anxious to know what
are the effects of unrequited affection, and if the results can be
serious. Seems strange, doesn't it?'

'It's passing strange, Henry.'

'You don't think he's fallen in love with you, Netta?'

'What makes you suggest he's fallen in love with me?'

'Because he comes in contact with no other woman beyond you and his
landlady, who, I understand, is over sixty and weighs fifteen stone--so
it must be you if it's anybody.' (This is a Scotsman's way of paying a
compliment; if you can follow the workings of his mind up to the source
of the idea you will see he means well.)

'That William should fall in love seems incredible--and entirely
unnecessary,' I commented. 'There must be some other explanation of
his manner. As he's coming to dinner to-night, I'll watch and see if I
can find anything unusually strange about him.'

When William made his appearance, therefore, I observed him intently.
Surely enough I was struck by the fact that he was changed in some
subtle way. He looked dejected. Of course it was impossible to see
much of his expression, owing to his face being almost entirely
obliterated with hair, but what was visible was extremely sad.