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Updated: May 21, 2025
It seemed that Sir Donald had taken a fancy to Carey. At any rate, such friendly feeling as he had did not seem lessened after Carey's exhibition at Arkell House. When Carey returned to Stratton Street, Sir Donald paid him a visit and stayed some time. No allusion was made to the painful circumstances under which they had last seen each other until Sir Donald was on the point of going away.
Stratton and I both begged him to take your advice and tell all, everything, no matter at what cost to his private feelings.
He had been made to do the regular thing, as Granger, Scarness, and others had done it. Stratton would be safer ground now, as Clavering had taken the last. That was the feeling on the matter which seemed to belong to others. It was not that Harry thought in this way of his own Florence.
He hinted that rumors of the cattle-stealing had reached the sheriff, who, debarred from taking up the matter openly by the absence of any complaint from the owner of the Shoe-Bar, had dispatched Stratton on a secret investigation.
My father became rector of Burnmore when I was nine; my mother had been dead four years, and my second cousin, Jane Stratton, was already his housekeeper. My father held the living until his resignation when I was nearly thirty. So that all the most impressionable years of my life centre upon the Burnmore rectory and the easy spaciousness of Burnmore Park.
"Really, I must guard against this habit of talking to myself," she went on with mild vexation. "They say it's one of the surest signs of age. Come in!" The outer door opened and Buck Stratton entered. Pausing for an instant on the threshold, he glanced eagerly about the room, his face falling a little as he walked over to where Mrs. Archer sat.
"Come in," said a voice. Stratton crossed the threshold, instinctively removing his hat. As he remembered it, the room, though of good size and comfortable enough, had been a clutter of purely masculine belongings. He was quite unprepared for the colorful gleam of Navajo rugs, the curtained windows, the general air of swept and garnished tidiness which seemed almost luxury.
"Where's er Miss Manning?" broke in Buck, reluctant to continue the discussion. "Gone in with Mrs. Archer," Bud explained, "They was both out there a while ago, but I reckon they got tired hangin' around." Stratton turned his back on the dingy window and fell to work on the wagon with Bud.
Stratton grinned as he departed. His head had scarcely passed the window before the inner door opened and Mary Thorne appeared. Her face was pale, with deep shadows under the eyes, and her slim, girlish figure drooped listlessly. She walked slowly over to the table, took up a book, fluttered the pages, and laid it down again.
Did I not tell you that the Lord knew about the panaderia? It is he who sends all this good to us who deserve it not." The wind was blowing quite keenly from the north, and Miss Stratton had the collar of her coat turned up, as she hurried through the darkness of the avenue. She was talking behind her coat collar, the tips of which brushed her lips.
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