"Yes," he
said, slowly. "Yes, I do; I'm not likely to forget her. She was my dearest
friend, and is so still, I hope."
The solemnity of his intended message clouded Mr. Chevenix's candid brow.
"She's still at Wanless, you know."
Senhouse set a watch upon himself. "No doubt she is," he said. "She's
well?"
The other probed him. "She's never made it up with her people. I think she
feels it nowadays."
Senhouse asked sharply, "Where's Ingram?"
"Ingram," said Chevenix, "is just off for a trip. He's to be abroad for a
year. India."
Senhouse shivered. "Alone?"
"Well, without her, anyhow. He always was a casual beggar, was Nevile." He
could see now that he was making a hit. "Got old Senhouse where he lives,"
he told himself, and then continued. "Fact is, I've been out with him as
far as Brindisi. He asked me to. I had nothing to do. But I want to see
Sancie Percival again. I was awfully fond of her--of the whole lot of
them." He reflected, as .a man might deliberate upon familiar things, and
discover them to be wonders. "What a family they were, by Jove! Five--of--
the--loveliest girls a man could meet with. Melusine, what a girl she was!
Married Tubby Scales--fat chap with a cigar.
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