enjoyed a sense of restfulness, intenser, perhaps, for the momentary disappointment he had encountered. He had no desire to talk; enough for a few minutes to sit and watch Jane’s hand as it moved backwards and forwards with the needle.
“I went to see Pennyloaf as I came back from work,” Jane said at length, just looking up.
“Did you? Do things seem to be any better?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. Mr. Kirkwood, don’t you think you might do something? If you tried again with her husband?”
“The fact is,” replied Sidney, “I’m so afraid of doing more harm than good.”
“You think? But then perhaps that’s just what I’m doing?”
Jane let her hand fall on the sewing and regarded him anxiously.
“No, no! I’m quite sure you can’t do harm. Pennyloaf can get nothing but good from having you as a friend. She likes you; she misses you when you happen not to have
