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Updated: May 27, 2025
They gave the effect of having carelessly lounged in and settled themselves; they were like the steady group of "regulars" in the parlour of their familiar inn. I came out of my reflection on the furniture to find that Jervaise was going, at last. He was smiling and effusive, talking quickly about nothing, apologising again for the unseemliness of our visit.
"Damned odd," commented Jervaise. "That cursed dog made enough noise to wake the dead." I was inspired to go out and search the window where burned the indigent, just perceptibly, rakish candle. She was there. She had returned to her eyrie after quelling the racket in the hall, and now she leaned a little forward so that I could see her face. "Who's there?" she asked quietly.
There was something definite and keen about this girl of twenty-three that suddenly illuminated my intellectual and moral flabbiness. She had already a definite attitude towards social questions that I had never bothered to investigate. She had shown herself to have a final pride in the matter of blackmailing old Jervaise.
The road ran uphill, in a long curve encircling the base of the hill, and I suppose I took about ten minutes to reach the crest of the rise. I stayed there a moment to wipe my forehead and slap peevishly at my accompanying swarm of flies. And it was from there I discovered that I had stumbled upon another property of the Jervaise comedy.
The stimulus of the fragrant night-stock had been excluded. Miss Tattersall pretended not to yawn. We all pretended that we did not feel a craving to yawn. The chatter rose and fell spasmodically in short devitalised bursts of polite effort. I looked round for Brenda, but could not see her anywhere. "Won't you come back into the drawing-room?" Mrs. Jervaise was saying to the Sturtons.
Before I had reached the end of the tunnel through the wood and had come out into the open whence I could, now, see the loom of Jervaise Clump swelling up before me in the deep, gray gloom of early dawn, I had decided that my suggestion had been prompted by an intuition of truth. Brenda had fallen under the spell of the moon, and gone for a long drive in the motor.
"But look here, Brenda, why..." Jervaise began on a note of desperate reasonableness. "Because I'm going out with him," Brenda said. They might have chased that argument round for half an hour if Ronnie had not once more interposed. His dudgeon had been slowly giving place to a shocked surprise. It was being borne in upon his reluctant mind that Brenda and Banks honestly intended to get married.
At the end of the pleasance we came to a high wall, and as Jervaise fumbled with the fastening of a, to me, invisible door, I was expecting that now we should come out into the open, into a paddock, perhaps, or a grass road through the Park. But beyond the wall was a kitchen garden.
"No; we left about half-past two." "Is she back?" "Who?" I asked. I was thinking of his sister, and could find no application for this question. "Miss Jervaise." "Oh er Miss Brenda? No. She hadn't come in when I left the house." "What time was that?" "About four. I came straight here."
Also, I wanted to fight Frank Jervaise an hour or two ago in the avenue. So, my dear Banks, have pity on me and help me to get back to London." Banks grinned. "No getting back to London to-night," he said. "Last train went at 3.19." "Well, isn't there some hotel in the neighbourhood?" I asked. He hesitated, imaginatively searching the county for some hotel worthy of receiving me.
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