on, "but that wretched garden-party! I thought my turn would
never come to receive my few words. Mother would have been
broken-hearted if I had left without them. What slaves we are to
royalty! Now shall I hurry and change? You men have the air of
wanting your dinner, and I am rather that way myself. You look
tired, dear host," she added, a little hesitatingly.
"The heat," he answered.
"Why you ever leave this spot I can't imagine," she declared, as
she turned away, with a lingering glance around. "It seems like
Paradise to come here and breathe this air. London is like a
furnace."
The two men were alone again. In Francis' pocket were the two
documents, which he had not yet made up his mind how to use.
Margaret came out to them presently, and he strolled away with
her towards the rose garden.
"Margaret," he said, "is it my fancy or has there been a change
in your father during the last few days?"
"There is a change of some sort," she admitted. "I cannot
describe it. I only know it is there. He seems much more
thoughtful and less hard. The change would be an improvement,"
she went on, "except that somehow or other it makes me feel
uneasy. It is as though he were grappling with some crisis."
They came to a standstill at the end of the pergola, where the
masses of drooping roses made the air almost faint with their
perfume.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266