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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Don't you understand? Rex is quite unmanageable. I depend wholly on the girl and Senator Meiklejohn is just the man to deal with her." They kissed farewell alas, those Judas kisses of women! Both were satisfied, each believing she had hoodwinked the other. Mrs. Carshaw returned to her flat to await her son's arrival. If the trail at East Orange proved difficult he promised to be home for dinner.
He recovered, after an operation and some months in a hospital. Then Carshaw befriended him, obtained a situation for him, and gave him money to start life in an honest way once more. There was another scene when Mrs. Carshaw brought Meiklejohn to her apartment and found Rex and Winifred awaiting them.
Thirdly, here was a woman in distress, and, to one of Carshaw's temperament and upbringing, that in itself formed a convincing reason why he should wish to help her. He racked his brain for a fitting excuse to offer his services. He could find none. Above all else, Rex Carshaw was a gentleman.
A too hasty express wagon, however, heedless of the convenience of wealthy automobilists, bore down on Carshaw like a Juggernaut car, and straightway smashed the differential, besides inflicting other grievous injuries on a complex mechanism.
A note was sent to Rachel by special messenger, and she, in turn, sought Fowle, whose mean face showed a blotchy red when he learned that Winifred could be traced by watching Carshaw. "I'll get her now, ma'am," he chuckled. "It'll be dead easy. I can make up as a parson. Did that once before when well, just to fool a bunch of people. No one suspects a parson see? I'll get her sure!"
"My poor child!" she cried, with a break in her voice, "what you have undergone! Can you ever forgive me?" Carshaw, ignoring Meiklejohn, whispered to his mother that Winifred should be sent to bed. She was utterly worn out. One of the maids should sleep in her room in case she awoke in fright during the night. When left alone with Meiklejohn he intended to scarify the man's soul.
I am now trying to find out." The Senator seemed to take thought. "I hate interfering," he said at last, "but I like young Carshaw, and have known his mother many a year. It's a pity he should throw himself away on some chit of a girl, merely because she has a fetching pair of eyes or a slim ankle, or Heaven alone knows what else it is that first turns a young man's mind to a young woman.
Somehow, the pert little man's overweening egotism was soothing, and Carshaw allowed his mind to dwell on the happiness of holding Winifred in his arms once more rather than the uncertain prospect of attaining such bliss. Indeed, he was almost surprised by the ardor of his love for her.
Carshaw, on his part, apparently had no eyes for her, but kept a look over the top of his newspaper at Rachel Craik, to see whether she recognized him, supposing it to be a fact that he had been seen with Winifred. She seemed, however, hardly to be aware of his presence.
The jerk threw Voles heavily, and nearly, not quite, sprained his ankle. So, during a precious second or two, he lay almost stunned on the left side of the road. Carshaw, given a hint of disaster by the slightest fraction of time, and already braced low in the body of his car, was able to jump unobserved from the wreck.
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