He wanted
to get at the man. Before they parted he felt he had, perhaps, learned
things opening up new points of view.
. . . . .
In the smoking-room at Dunholm that night he and his son talked of their
chance encounter. It seemed possible that mistakes had been made about
Mount Dunstan. One did not form a definite idea of a man's character
in the course of an afternoon, but he himself had been impressed by a
conviction that there had been mistakes.
"We are rather a stiff-necked lot--in the country--when we allow
ourselves to be taken possession of by an idea," Westholt commented.
"I am not at all proud of the way in which we have taken things
for granted," was his father's summing up. "It is, perhaps, worth
observing," taking his cigar from his mouth and smiling at the end of
it, as he removed the ash, "that, but for Miss Vanderpoel and G. Selden,
we might never have had an opportunity of facing the fact that we may
not have been giving fair play. And one has prided one's self on one's
fair play."
CHAPTER XXX
A RETURN
At the close of a long, warm afternoon Betty Vanderpoel came out upon
the square stone terrace overlooking the gardens, and that part of
the park which, enclosing them, caused them, as they melted into its
greenness, to lose all limitations and appear to be only a more blooming
bit of the landscape.
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