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"It was rather nice of Mrs Ferrall to ask "
"Grace Ferrall is a dear," she replied
After a moment he ventured: "I suppose you saw it in the papers"
"I think so; I had cootten it; your name seemed to--"
"I see" Then, listlessly: "I couldn't have ventured to reht not care to be so amiable--"
"Mr Siward," she said impulsively, "you are nice to otten just how dreadfully you did behave--"
"Pretty badly"
"Very?"
"They say so"
"And what is your opinion Mr Siward?"
"Oh, I ought to have known better" So about him reminded her of a bad small boy; and suddenly in spite of her better sense, in spite of her instinctive caution, she found herself on the very verge of laughter What was it in the man that disarmed and invited a confidence--scarcely justified it appeared? What was it now that moved her to overlook what few overlook--not the fault, but its publicity? Was it his agreeable bearing, his pleasant badinage, his amiably listless moments of preoccupation, his youth that appealed to her--aroused her charity, her generosity, her curiosity?
And had other people continued to accept him, too? What would Quarrier think of his presence at Shotover? She began to realise that she was a little afraid of Quarrier's opinions And his opinions were always judght it proper to ask him, and that meant social absolution As far as that went she also was perfectly ready to absolve him if he needed it But perhaps he didn't care!--She looked at hih in his abstraction Trouble appeared to slide very easily fro radually speculation becairl's innocent curiosity to learn so of a man whose record it seemed almost impossible to reconcile with his personality
"I ondering," he said looking up to encounter her clear eyes, "whose house that is over there?"
"Beverly Plank's shooting-box; Black Fells," she replied nodding toward the vast pile of blackish rocks against the sky, upon which sprawled a heavy stone house infested with chimneys
"Plank? Oh yes"
He s blows rained upon the ramparts of society by the master of Black Fells