It was well that at
this moment they should part ways.
Sir Nigel's horse being brought, he went on the way which was his.
"It was a mistake to say what I did," he said before going. "I ought to
have held my tongue. But I am under the same roof with her. At any rate,
that is a privilege no other man shares with me."
He rode off smartly, his horse's hoofs splashing in the rain pools left
in the avenue after the storm. He was not so sure after all that he
had made a mistake, and for the moment he was not in the mood to care
whether he had made one or not. His agreeable smile showed itself as he
thought of the obstinate, proud brute he had left behind, sitting alone
among his shut doors and closed corridors. They had not shaken hands
either at meeting or parting. Queer thing it was--the kind of enmity a
man could feel for another when he was upset by a woman. It was amusing
enough that it should be she who was upsetting him after all these
years--impudent little Betty, with the ferocious manner.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
AT SHANDY'S
On a late-summer evening in New York the atmosphere surrounding a
certain corner table at Shandy's cheap restaurant in Fourteenth Street
was stirred by a sense of excitement.
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