It was ten years ago. I must have been eighteen. It was when I was at
Gorston with Grace Mauleverer--trying to save water-lilies from drowning
in green scum. He--Mr. Senhouse--came along in his cart, and saw me, and
lent me his bed for a raft--and worked it himself. That was the first time
I ever saw him--" she ended softly in a sigh: "before anything happened."
Chevenix listened, nodding at the photograph. "Wish to heaven, my dear,
nothing had ever happened. The less that happens to girls the better for
them, I believe. Not but what _this_ chap would have been all right. If
_he_ had happened, now! He was as mad as a hatter, but a real good sort.
Did I tell you?" He grew suddenly reminiscent. "I saw him a little more
than a year ago--with a pretty woman. Had a talk with him--asked him to
come up and have a look at you. It was when Nevile went off on this trip.
No, no, I liked old Senhouse. He was a nice-minded chap. Not the kind to
eat you up--and take everything you've got as if he had a right to it. No.
That's Nevile's line, that is. You wouldn't see Nevile lending you his
bed, or risking his life after water-lilies."
Sanchia's eyes were narrow and critical. She peered as if she were trying
to find good somewhere in Nevile Ingram.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128