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How she hated this room, where of evenings the 'paying guests' distorted themselves. But she came into it now eagerly, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and hand held out, only to draw back with sudden chill. It was Mr. Philip Slotman who rose from the ottoman. "Joan, I've come to tell you I am sorry, sorry and ashamed," he said. "I was mad. I want you to forgive me."
Hugh Alston lingered in London, why, he would not admit, even to himself. In reality he had lingered on in the hope of seeing Joan Meredyth again. How he should see her, where and when, he had not the faintest idea; but he wanted to see her even more than he wanted to see Hurst Dormer. He had thought of going to the city and calling on Mr. Philip Slotman again. But he had not liked Mr. Slotman.
It was too good an offer for a girl in her position to refuse without consideration." "You lie!" Slotman shifted uneasily. "I cannot force your belief." "You're right, you can't. Well, go on what more?" "She came into this money; my proposal no longer tempted her. She then refused me, even though I told her that the past her past would be forgotten, that I would never refer to it." "What past?"
Neither at Marlbury, nor at Morchester had any marriage been registered in the name of Hugh Alston and Joan Meredyth in the year nineteen eighteen; and having discovered that fact beyond doubt, Philip Slotman took train for London. A fortnight had passed since Johnny Everard's first visit to Starden, and during that time he had been again and yet again.
He had found out all that he wanted to know, yet not quite. For the next few hours Philip Slotman was a busy man. He went to the church and looked up the register. No marriage such as he looked for had taken place between Hugh Alston and Joan Meredyth in June, nineteen eighteen, nor any other month immediately before or after. No marriage had taken place at the local Registrar's office.
She was in two minds whether to open and read it, or merely return it unopened and addressed to Philip Slotman, Esq., Gracebury, London, E.C. But she was a woman. And it takes a considerable amount of strength of will to return unopened and unread a letter to its sender, especially if one is a woman. What might not that letter contain?
And when Marjorie read the letter she read of an unsatisfied, unhappy spirit, of a girl whose whole heart yearned and longed for love, and whose pride held her in check and condemned her to unhappiness. Scarcely a day passed but Joan drove over to Little Langbourne. Philip Slotman came to look for her, and counted it a long unhappy day if she failed him; but it was not often.
"You're not going to be too busy to see me this morning, Slotman, for I have interesting things to discuss with you." "I am a busy man," Slotman began nervously. "Very!" said Hugh "very, so I hear." He stepped into the room, and faced Slotman across the paper-littered table. "I have been hearing about some of your enterprises," he said, and there was that in his face that caused Mr.
She knows jolly well she wouldn't get another job in a hurry, and here she is." But Mr. Slotman made up his mind to go cautiously and carefully. He would not let Miss Meredyth witness his sense of satisfaction. "I am glad you have returned, Miss Meredyth. I felt sure that you would; there's no reason whatever we shouldn't get on perfectly well."
There was nothing brigandish or romantic about the appearance of the very ordinary-looking young man who put in an appearance at Starden village. Quite what his plans were, what he proposed doing and how he should do it, Hugh had not the slightest idea. He mistrusted Slotman.
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