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Updated: May 31, 2025
Grangersons lay a mile beyond the little town, a solidly built mansion set far back from the road, and approached by an avenue of cypress. As they drew up before the pillared piazza, upon which the front door opened, from the doorway, wide open this warm day, appeared an old gentleman. A very fine looking old man he was.
"Yes, stop, stop at once I must go back, I should never have come." Silas was on the point of flashing out but he shut his lips tight, then he reined in. "Wait a moment," said he with his hand on her arm, "you can't walk back, we are nearly half way to Grangersons. I can't drive you because I don't want to return to Charleston.
"Why?" "Because they have been there always and well, look!" She led the way behind the tree, pushed the bushes aside and disclosed the seat. She no longer felt that she was betraying a secret. Her experience at Grangersons had in some way made Vernons seem to her now really her home, and Richard Pinckney closer to her in relationship. "Why, how did you know that was there?" said Richard.
The stable yard of Grangersons was an immense flagged quadrangle bounded on the right, counting from the point of entrance, by the kitchen premises. There was stable room for forty horses, coach-house accommodation for a dozen or more carriages.
They talked of other things and then, breakfast over, Miss Pinckney turned to Richard. "Well, what about that automobile?" "I'll have one at the door for you at ten," said he. She turned to Phyl. "You'd better go with me if you'd like to; you'd be lonely here all by yourself, and you may as well see Grangersons whilst the old man's there, though maybe he'll be gone before we arrive.
"Don't cry," said he, "everything will be all right when we get to Grangersons we'll just go on." The horses started again and Phyl dried her eyes. They covered another five miles without speaking, and then Silas said: "You don't mean to stick to me, then?" "I can't," said Phyl. "You care for some one else better?" "Yes." "Is it Pinckney?" "Yes." "God!" said he. He cut the off horse with the whip.
Richard had taken to avoiding her, she became aware of that. She fancied that she displeased him. If she had only known! Silas Grangerson came to town on the Wednesday, driving in and reaching the Charleston Hotel about five o'clock in the afternoon. The Grangersons scarcely ever used the railway.
We could have a boatman to help sail and steer." He spoke lightly and laughingly, and without much enthusiasm and as though he were talking to some one of his own sex, and Phyl, not knowing how to take him, said nothing. He went on, his tone growing warmer. "I'm not joking, I'm dead sick of Grangersons and Charleston, and I reckon you are too aren't you?" "No."
Silas in town get up, quite a different looking individual from the Silas of Grangersons, dressed in perfectly fitting light grey tweed, a figure almost condoning one for the use of that old-time, half-discredited word "Elegant." "There you are," said Silas, his face lighting up. "I thought it wouldn't be long before I met you.
He had kissed a good many girls, but never in his life had he kissed a girl as he kissed Phyl. Something cynical in his feelings for the other sex had always left him somewhat cold, but Phyl was different from the others, she had in some way struck straight at his real being. When he left her that night at Grangersons he was almost as disturbed as she. He scarcely slept.
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