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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Megan David." "This is Robert Garton, and I am Frank Ashurst. We wanted to get on to Chagford." "It is a pity your leg is hurting you." Ashurst smiled, and when he smiled his face was rather beautiful. Descending past the narrow wood, they came on the farm suddenly-a long, low, stone-built dwelling with casement windows, in a farmyard where pigs and fowls and an old mare were straying.
Two or three mornings of the week you could have seen them hand in hand walking from 11 Downing Street across St. James's Park to watch the ducks feeding in the lake. With sparkling blue eyes, a sensitive mouth, and vivacious manner, little Megan had some of her father's characteristics. She was a daughter any father might be proud of.
I'll join you at the castle by the next train!" He jumped, stumbled, spun round, recovered his balance, and walked forward, while the carriage with the astonished Hallidays rolled on. From the corner he could only just see Megan, a long way ahead now. He ran a few steps, checked himself, and dropped into a walk.
Ashurst sent his wire, addressing it to Mrs. Narracombe: "Sorry, detained for the night, back to-morrow." Surely Megan would understand that he had too much to do; and his heart grew lighter.
Then a sort of spasm seemed to convulse his face. "Megan don' want yu." A rush of jealousy, of contempt, and anger with this thick, loud-breathing rustic got the better of Ashurst's self-possession; he jumped up, and pushed back his chair. "You can go to the devil!" And as he said those simple words, he saw Megan in the doorway with a tiny brown spaniel puppy in her arms.
It was a lovely afternoon, warm, the sea calm and blue, and swimming his great passion; the favour of these pretty children flattered him, the pleasure of looking at them, at Stella, at Halliday's sunny face; the slight unreality, yet extreme naturalness of it all as of a last peep at normality before he took this plunge with Megan! He got his borrowed bathing dress, and they all set forth.
By stretching up his arm he could just reach. Her hand held the huge key of the front door, and he clasped that burning hand with the cold key in it. He could just see her face, the glint of teeth between her lips, her tumbled hair. She was still dressed poor child, sitting up for him, no doubt! "Pretty Megan!" Her hot, roughened fingers clung to his; her face had a strange, lost look.
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