Chapter 57

+---------------------------+ | RICHARD OSBORNE ELLIOTT | +---------------------------+ “Why the devil doesn’t he want me to speak of her?” He opened the door, and, discouraging the caresses of two brindle bull-dogs, sank down on the sofa. Elliott sat smoking and sketching with a piece of charcoal by the window. “Hello,” he said without looking around. Clifford gazed absently at the back of his head, murmuring, “I’m afraid, I’m afraid that man is too innocent. I say, El…