"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. But if you wish to do old Wood a friendly turn, you may bring his wife. His father and mother are gone now. Jackson took an accurate survey of the room with his one eye, Mr. ’ Melusine looked resentfully at the pistol. Why don’t you just tell me what is going on with you! Why the police questioned you! Why they’re looking for your mother? I’ll understand! Just tell me and I swear to God Lucy I’ll understand. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. . One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself.
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