CHAPTER IIS
IR HARRY breakfasted at a quarter to eight four days a week, walked to Lambton station, and got the one up train by which there was no change at Winter Overcotes. Before he left on the morning after Matron’s visit he went to say goodbye to his wife as usual. She was in bed, a breakfast tray on a table at one side, a large dispatch-box on a table at the other side, dealing with the morning’s post before she got up. Sir Harry bent cautiously over the breakfast tray and kissed her, expressing a hope that she hadn’t been kept awake by all the visitors last night, and that the Intelligence officer and his wife would not be too much for her.
“If you think you can’t manage it, my dear,” he said, “I’ll let Hooper know he must try somewhere else. I can’t have you working yourself to d
