She
had the eyes of a falcon under the odd, soft shade of the extraordinary
lashes. She had seen what he thought no one but himself had realised.
Having watched her retreating figure for a few seconds, he sat down--as
suddenly as before--on the mound near the tree.
"Oh, damn her!" he said, his damp forehead on his hands. "Damn the whole
universe!"
. . . . .
When Betty and Roland reached Stornham, the wicker-work pony chaise from
the vicarage stood before the stone entrance steps. The drawing-room
door was open, and Mrs. Brent was standing near it saying some last
words to Lady Anstruthers before leaving the house, after a visit
evidently made with an object. This Betty gathered from the solemnity of
her manner.
"Betty," said Lady Anstruthers, catching sight of her, "do come in for a
moment."
When Betty entered, both her sister and Mrs. Brent looked at her
questioningly.
"You look a little pale and tired, Miss Vanderpoel," Mrs. Brent said,
rather as if in haste to be the first to speak. "I hope you are not at
all unwell. We need all our strength just now. I have brought the most
painful news. Malignant typhoid fever has broken out among the hop
pickers on the Mount Dunstan estate.
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