never saw Manderson in his office when there was a big thing on. I knew him better than any of his friends.'
'Had he any friends?' interjected Trent.
Mr. Bunner glanced at him sharply. 'Somebody has been putting you next, I see that,' he remarked. 'No: properly speaking, I should say not. He had many acquaintances among the big men, people he saw, most every day; they would even go yachting or hunting together. But I don't believe there ever was a man that Manderson opened a corner of his heart to. But what I was going to say was this. Some months ago the old man began to get like I never knew him before–gloomy and sullen, just as if he was everlastingly brooding over something bad, something that he couldn't fix. This went on without any break; it was the same down town as it was up home, he acted just as if there was something lying heavy on his mind. But it wasn't until a few weeks back that his self-restraint began to go; and let me tell you this, Mr. Trent'–the American laid his bony claw on the other's knee–'I'm the only man that knows it. With every one else he would be just morose and
