She got no further
than the dream of a peaceful house, with the figure of an inoffensive
husband somewhere in the background.
CHAPTER III.
Meldon stretched himself in a deep chair and lit his pipe. He had
dined to his own satisfaction, eating with an appetite whetted by the
long drive from the railway station. He had before him a clear
fortnight's holiday, and intended to enjoy it to the full. Major
Kent's house was comfortable; his tobacco, which Meldon smoked, was
good; his yacht, the _Spindrift_, lay ready for a cruise.
"To-morrow," he said, "I shall stroll round and see my old friends.
I'm bound to do that; and, in point of fact, I want to. It's three
years since I left, and I'm longing for a look at Doyle and the rest of
them. The next day, if the weather is any way moderate, we can go
sailing. I suppose Ballymoy isn't much changed. I shall find every
one exactly as I left them. Things don't alter much in places like
this where you take life easy."
"The place is changed," said Major Kent; "changed for the worse. You'd
hardly know it."
"Nothing has happened to Doyle, I hope. I'd be sorry if poor Doyle had
taken to drink, or gone bankrupt, or got married, or anything of that
sort.
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