It is going now I
am all that is left to it. It is all I have. So I patch it up when I can
afford it, with a crutch or a splint and a bandage."
Late in the afternoon of the day on which Miss Vanderpoel rode away from
West Ways with Lord Westholt, a stealthy and darkly purple cloud rose,
lifting its ominous bulk against a chrysoprase and pink horizon. It
was the kind of cloud which speaks of but one thing to those who watch
clouds, or even casually consider them. So Lady Anstruthers felt some
surprise when she saw Sir Nigel mount his horse before the stone steps
and ride away, as it were, into the very heart of the coming storm.
"Nigel will be caught in the rain," she said to her sister. "I wonder
why he goes out now. It would be better to wait until to-morrow."
But Sir Nigel did not think so. He had calculated matters with some
nicety. He was not exactly on such terms with Mount Dunstan as would
make a casual call seem an entirely natural thing, and he wished to drop
in upon him for a casual call and in an unpremeditated manner. He
meant to reach the Mount about the time the storm broke, under
which circumstance nothing could bear more lightly an air of being
unpremeditated than to take refuge in a chance passing.
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