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Updated: May 23, 2025
He adopted his brother's quarrel: he and Lewis barely spoke, and that despite the fact that Lewis had for him a strange half-grim, half-vexed admiration; he came no more than the elder Cary to the house on Shockoe; but when they met abroad, Jacqueline was sure of some greeting, half gay, half stiff, some talk of Fontenoy, some exchange of sentiment upon one topic dear to each, some chivalrous compliment to herself.
He crossed the hall, a queer, half-grim, half-wistful smile on his lips, unlocked the front door, stepped out, locked it behind him and in another moment, doubling around the corner, was running along like a hare along the side street. On Jimmie Dale ran. Across on Fourth Avenue he swung on a car that took him to Astor Place.
She leaned back upon the cushions with closed eyes, for her brain was swimming. "I am all right," she reiterated. "You startled me a little. I didn't expect you back so soon." "I met Barnes just after I started," he made answer. "He is coming to dine presently." Her heart sank. "Is he?" she said faintly. "No." Monck's tone suddenly held an odd note that was half-grim and half-protective.
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