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Updated: June 18, 2025
Errol had found her alone at the inn at Bramhurst on the night of the storm, and in response to her earnest request had taken her without delay straight back to her home. Very little had passed between them on the circumstances that had resulted in this development. Scarcely had Nap's name been mentioned by either. Mrs. Errol seemed to know him too well to need an explanation.
"Which is a myth," he returned, as he handed her in, "which exists only in your most gracious imagination." And with that he pulled the mask over his face once more and turned to the wheel. It was nearly two before they reached Bramhurst and drew up before the one ancient inn the place possessed.
I shall go with Mrs. Errol." He conceded this point, albeit grudgingly. "And afterwards?" he said. "The afterwards shall be yours, dear," she answered. "You mean that?" "Of course I mean it." "Then, Anne" he bent his face suddenly, his lips moved against her forehead "will you come with me to Bramhurst?" "Bramhurst!" She started a little.
The mother was real bothered about it, and so was I. We couldn't rest, either of us. And in the end she ordered the big Daimler and went off to Bramhurst herself. I wanted to go with her, but she wouldn't have me at any price. You know the mother. So I stopped to look after things here. Everyone cleared off this morning, thank the gods. I don't think anyone smelt a rat.
"Will you tell me what plans you have made for this picnic?" she asked at length. He began to smile. "My plans, Lady Carfax, are entirely subject to your approval. About forty miles from here there is a place called Bramhurst a place after your own heart a paradise. With judicious driving we could be there by one or soon after in time for luncheon." "Yes?" she said, as he stopped.
He bent his head a little lower, kissed her twice passionately upon the lips, held her awhile as if he could not bear to let her go, then tore himself almost violently from her, and went away, swift and noiseless as a shadow over the grass. It was late on the evening of her wedding-day that Anne entered once more the drawing-room of the little inn at Bramhurst and stopped by the open window.
But while I was there a wire came for the butler from a place called Bramhurst, which is about fifty miles away, to say that the car had broken down and they couldn't return before to-day. Well, that looked to me deuced queer. I'm convinced that Nap is up to some devilry. What on earth induced her to go there with him anyway?
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