"It must be hard on her," acquiesced Patricia. "Why didn't she get something else to do?",
"Poor David!" echoed Etwald, with a sneer. "Foolish David, you might say, to die for the sake of a woman.",
Some days are like tin nutmeg-graters that everybody uses to grate you against, and this was one for me. For an hour I sat and grated my own self against Alfred's letter that had come in the morning. I realised that I would just have to come to some sort of decision about what I was going to do, for he wrote that he was coming in a week or two..
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