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Updated: July 5, 2025
It was on a very windy March day that Bertram Henshaw's son, Bertram, Jr., arrived at the Strata. Billy went so far into the Valley of the Shadow of Death for her baby that it was some days before she realized in all its importance the presence of the new member of her family.
Henshaw no longer listened. "Why, Mr. Henshaw's gone!" she exclaimed dramatically. "Boy, boy, page Mr. Henshaw." Mr. Henshaw remained oblivious. "Oh, well, of course I might have expected you wouldn't have time to listen to my poor little plot. Of course I know it's crude, but it did seem to me that something might be made out of it." She resumed her food. Mr.
He refused Mr. Henshaw's hand with a gesture he had once seen on the stage, and, showing him downstairs, closed the door behind him with a bang. Left to himself, the small remnants of Mr. Henshaw's courage disappeared. He wandered forlornly up and down the streets until past ten o'clock, and then, cold and dispirited, set off in the direction of home.
Dicky's voice was hard now. "Who was he?" "Heatherby Bob Heatherby!" "Bob Heatherby gad! Fielding, I'm sorry I couldn't have guessed, old man. Mrs. Henshaw's brother!" Fielding nodded. Dicky turned his head away; for Fielding was in love with Mrs. Henshaw, the widow of Henshaw of the Buffs. He realised now why Fielding loathed Hasha so. "Forgive me for asking him to mess, guv'nor."
Henshaw's manner was now the quintessence of insolence, but Gifford could afford, although it cost him an effort, to ignore it. With the practised pen of a lawyer Henshaw quickly wrote down a short declaration, signing it with a flourish and then flicking it across the table to Gifford. "That should meet the case," he said, leaning back confidently and thrusting his hands into his pockets.
The chain broke, the note structure fell like a house o' cards, an' I was the only loser think o' that. There were five capitalists an' only one man with real money. "Sam Henshaw's girl had graduated an' gone abroad with her mother. One Sunday 'bout a year later, Sam flew up to the door o' my house in his automobile.
Henshaw's as a poor creature, who was sick and destitute, and lay, almost deserted, in a neighbouring hovel. She existed on charity, which was the more scanty and reluctant as she bore but an indifferent character either for honesty or gratitude. The name, when first mentioned, struck my ear as something that had once been familiar, and, in my solitary evening walk, I stopped at her cottage.
Miss Morriston was not only a strikingly handsome girl, but she was an heiress, possessing, according to Kelson, a considerable fortune in her own right. There, clearly, was Henshaw's motive; an incentive to an unscrupulous man to use every art, fair and unfair, to force himself into her favour.
I must see you both together." Mr. Henshaw ground his teeth. "But where is he?" he inquired. "He went off with Ted Stokes," said his wife. "If you're George you'd better go and ask him." She prepared to close the window, but Mr. Henshaw's voice arrested her. "And suppose he is not there?" he said. Mrs. Henshaw reflected.
"But the harm that has been done is due to Dan's own blindness. He should learn to read ordinary signs as he runs." No wonder Dan Dalzell's face had gone gray and ashy. For the time being he was feeling keenly. He had been so sure of "Miss" Henshaw's being a splendid woman -as, indeed, she was -that he decided on this, their third meeting, to try his luck with a sailor's impetuous wooing.
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