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Updated: May 15, 2025
"I'm frightfully hungry. Can I do anything to stop growing, Mr. Pengarth? I'm getting taller and taller!" She stood up. She was head and shoulders taller than the little lawyer, slim as a lath, and yet wonderfully graceful. She laughed down at him and made a little grimace. "I'm a giraffe, am I not?" she declared; "and I'm still growing. Do show me your garden, Mr. Pengarth.
They ate their meal almost in silence. Afterwards, Wingrave asked her a question. "Where is Aynesworth?" "Looking for work, I think," she answered. "Why did you not stay down in Cornwall?" "Miss Pengarth was away and I preferred to return to London," she told him quietly. "When are you going to marry Aynesworth?" he asked. She looked down into her glass and was silent.
Brand spent part of his compensation money in entertaining a group of friends at a Pengarth public. But that was the last of his triumph. Thenceforward things went mysteriously wrong with him.
Do you consider me, Mr. Pengarth, to be a person in possession of his usual faculties?" "Oh, most certainly most certainly," the lawyer declared emphatically. "Then please do not question my instructions any further. So far as regards the pecuniary part of it, I am a richer man than you have any idea of, Mr. Pengarth, and for the rest sentiment unfortunately does not appeal to me.
His brown suit, though worn and frayed, had once been such a suit as Messrs. Carter, tailors, of Pengarth, were accustomed to sell to their farmer clients, and it was crossed by an old-fashioned chain and seal. The suit was heavily splashed with mud; so were the thick boots; and on the drooped brow shone beads of sweat.
It was several moments before he spoke. He looked Mr. Pengarth in the face, and his tone was unusually deliberate. "Gifts," he said, "are not always given in friendship. Life may easily become a more complicated affair for that child with the Tredowen estates hanging round her neck. And anyhow, I disappoint my next of kin." Morrison, smooth-footed and silent, appeared upon the lawn.
He rose directly afterwards, and she walked with him out to the gardens whence a short cut led to the village. "I have not tried again to make you change your mind," he said as they stood for a moment on the terrace. "If my wishes have any weight with you, I trust that you will do nothing without consulting Mr. Pengarth." "And you " she faltered, "are you never in London?
Pengarth," Wingrave said calmly. "Now I must really send you away." So Mr. Pengarth went, but Wingrave was not long destined to remain in solitude. There was a sound of voices in the hall, Morrison's protesting, another insistent. Then the door opened, and Wingrave looked up with darkening face, which did not lighten when he recognized the intruder.
As they drew up at the gate, the Pengarth driver looked with furtive curiosity at the house-front. Melrose, in the words of Lydia to young Faversham, had "become a legend" to his neighbourhood, and many strange things were believed about him.
He advised her to be out a great deal, and assured her that the Cumbria summer, when it came, was delightful. And he signed himself "your affectionate husband, Edmund Melrose." Mrs. Dixon went into Pengarth for shopping on the fly which conveyed Melrose to the station, and was to come out by carrier. After their departure there was no one left in the house but the deaf old woman.
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