Neither did he put his candle under
a bushel, but set it in the very highest candlestick available.
But, as has been previously stated, he could not foresee everything. He
did not know, for instance, that his cheroot-smoking subaltern--a
youth as guileless as he was indiscreet, for the two usually go
together--possessed a memory like a dry-plate. He did not foresee that a
passing conversation in an Indian bungalow might perchance photograph
itself on the somewhat sparsely covered tablets of a man's mind, to be
reproduced at the wrong moment with a result lying twenty-six years ahead
in the womb of time.
CHAPTER II
SUBURBAN
_L'amour fait tout excuser, mais il faut etre bien sur qu'il y a de i
amour._
Miss Anna Hethbridge loved Seymour Michael with as great a love as her
nature could compass.
When the news of his death reached her, at the profusely laden
breakfast-table at Jaggery House, Clapham Common, her first feeling was
one of scornful anger towards a Providence which could be so careless.
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