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Updated: May 29, 2025
I'll study it at my leisure. You know what it contains?" Patty nodded, her face turned away. "And why has she chosen to-day to write to me?" Patty kept silence. "Anything to do with the call I had yesterday from my friend Narramore?" "Yes that's the reason. But she has meant to let you know for some time." Hilliard drew a long breath. He fixed his eyes on the letter.
"Such a promise is idle, and you know it. Remember, too, that Narramore and I are friends. He will speak to me of you, and I can't play a farce with him. It would be intolerable discomfort to me, and grossly unfair to him. Do, for once, the simple, honourable thing, and make a new beginning. After that, be guided by your own interests. Assuredly I shall not stand in your way."
He had but to think of her as married to Robert Narramore and the jealous fury of natural man drove him headlong. Monday was again a holiday. When would the cursed people get back to their toil, and let the world resume its wonted grind and clang? They seemed to have been making holiday for a month past.
I believe there's a bottle of Burgundy left. If not, plenty of Bass." He stretched forth a languid hand, smiling amiably. Narramore was the image of luxurious indolence; he had pleasant features, dark hair inclined to curliness, a well-built frame set off by good tailoring.
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