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Updated: June 1, 2025


It was obviously a delicate business, and after all, he thought, now that the man's undesirable presence had practically ceased to be an annoyance to the Morristons there scarcely seemed any need to bother about him. On the other hand, however, there was a certain strong curiosity on his own part to know Henshaw's design and what kept him in the town.

To Kelson's delight he heard that Muriel Tredworth and her brother were coming over next day to stay with the Morristons for another dance in the neighbourhood and a near meet of the hounds; so he, warming to the Morristons, chatted away in all a lover's high spirits. "By the way," he said presently, as they sat over tea, "rather an extraordinary thing has happened at the Golden Lion."

"Hope you won't mind going over to Wynford," Kelson said as they drove back. "If it is at all painful to you from old associations, I'll make an excuse for you." Gifford hesitated a moment. "Oh, no," he answered. "I'll come. There is no use in being sentimental about the place going out of our family, and these Morristons are quite the right sort of people to have it.

The same judgment would apply to his friend Kelson, a chivalrous sportsman, who would unselfishly do anything in his power to be of help, but whose ability and penetration by no means matched his willingness. And probably these men were types of the bulk of the Morristons' friends and acquaintances, at any rate of those who were immediately available.

"Was that a quotation, Mr. Gifford?" Miss Morriston asked, clearly with the object of dismissing the unfortunate episode. "My remark about the cloak of night?" he replied. "Perhaps. I seem to have heard something like it somewhere." And as he spoke he glanced curiously at Miss Tredworth. Next evening the two friends at the Golden Lion were engaged to dine with the Morristons.

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