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She crossed the stepping stones, and in a river field on the farther side she came across an old shepherd, carrying a wounded ewe across his shoulders, and with his dog beside him. At sight of him she paused in astonishment. He was an old friend of hers, but he belonged to a village the village of Mainstairs some three miles away in the lowland toward Pengarth.
"The chances are that he would collapse on the road. But as soon as ever the thing is possible you shall be relieved of him. I can easily find accommodation for him at Pengarth. At present he is suffering from very severe concussion. I hope there is not actual brain lesion but there may be. And, if so, to move him now would be simply to destroy his chance of recovery."
Faversham was sitting in his Pengarth office, turning over the morning's post. He had just ridden in from the Tower. Before him lay a telephone message taken down for him by his clerk, before his arrival: "Lord Tatham will be at Mr. Faversham's office by 12:30. He wishes to speak to Mr. Faversham on important business."
Why, let me see!" he exclaimed. "Fourteen and why, God bless my soul, you must be eighteen!" "I am nineteen years old, Mr. Pengarth," the young lady announced with dignity. "Perhaps you will be kind enough to treat me now er with a little more respect." "Nineteen!" he repeated vaguely. "God bless my nineteen years old?" "I consider myself," she repeated, "of age.
John Brand was not much over fifty, but he was tired out in mind and body; and his soul was bitter within him. A year before this date he had been still the nominal owner of a small freehold farm between Pengarth and Carlisle, bordering on the Threlfall property. But he was then within an ace of ruin, and irreparable calamity had since overtaken him.
My journey, wherever and whatever it is, is inevitable." Mr. Pengarth was braver than he had ever been in his life. "Sir Wingrave," he said, "there is one journey which we must all take in God's good time. But the man who starts before he is called finds no welcome at the end. The greatest in life are those who are content to wait!" "I am not in the least disposed to doubt it, Mr.
"She shows, I think, a certain amount of ingratitude in forcing this journey and explanation upon me," Wingrave declared coldly. "It should have been sufficient for her that her benefactor preferred to remain anonymous." "I regret, Sir Wingrave, that I must disagree with you," Mr. Pengarth answered boldly.
Sha'n't I see you again any time?" "If you care to, by all means," he answered. "Tell Mr. Pengarth to let me have your address. Goodbye! Thank you for taking care of my treasures so well." She held his cold hand in hers and suddenly raised it to her lips. Then she turned away and hurried indoors.
Whether he hated him enough to murder him is another question. When I visited them, the mother told me that Will had rushed out of the house the night before, because he could not endure the sight of his father's sufferings. The jury I suppose will have to know that. Well! You were going on to Pengarth?" Tatham assented. Boden paused, leaning on his bicycle. "Take Threlfall on your way.
"Against the two of you," Wingrave remarked, "I am, of course, powerless. After all, it is no concern of mine. I shall leave you, Pengarth, to make such arrangements as Miss Lundy desires!" He rose to his feet. Juliet now was pale. She dashed the tears from her eyes and looked at him in amazement mingled with something which was almost like despair.
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