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"I MIGHT be able " At that moment, their colloquy was suddenly interrupted by the entry of a lady who immediately riveted Bertram Ingledew's attention. She was tall and dark, a beautiful woman, of that riper and truer beauty in face and form that only declares itself as character develops.
But, bless you, women 'll do anything for the strawberry leaves. It isn't from the Bertrams this man gets his good looks. It isn't from the Bertrams. Old Ingledew's daughters are pretty enough girls. If their aunts were like 'em, it's there your young friend got his air of distinction." "We never know who's who nowadays," the Dean murmured softly.
Vane was away for a second night, and he had time to see Enid again before her return. She had not touched her medicine-bottles, and there was again a slight but marked improvement in her condition. Mr. Evandale induced her to fetch one of the bottles of Mr. Ingledew's mixture, which he put into his pocket and conveyed it to his own home. Here he smelt, tasted, and to some extent analysed it.
And as nothing was further than boasting from Bertram Ingledew's gentle nature, and as Philip and Frida both held their peace for good reasons of their own, the baronet never attempted in any way to rake up the story of his grotesque disgrace on what he considered his own property.
Not a trace was left on the heath of Robert Monteith's crime: not a dapple of blood, not a clot of gore: only a pale blue flame and a persistent image represented the body that was once Bertram Ingledew's. Again, even as they looked, a still weirder feeling began to creep over them. The figure, growing fainter, seemed to fade away piecemeal in the remote distance.
I'd immensely like to put that young fellow into a smart hussar uniform, mount him on a good charger of the Punjaub breed, and send him helter-skelter, pull-devil, pull-baker, among my old friends the Duranis on the North-West frontier." While the men talked thus, Bertram Ingledew's ears ought to have burned behind the bushes.
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