“I have been half round the world, Knox, trying to find peace.”
“You don't know where to look for it,” I said.
“If only you knew,” he whispered. “If only you knew,” and sank down upon
the settee, ruffling his hair with his hands and looking the picture of
haggard misery. Seeing that I was still set upon departure:
“Hold on a bit, Knox,” he implored. “Don't go yet. There is something I
want to ask you, something very important.”
He crossed to a sideboard and mixed himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He
asked me to join him, but I refused.
“Won't you sit down again?”