Ventnor
was not a wife who satisfied every aspiration. But alas! the settlement
was safe. This baulking of the sentiment of love, whipped up, if
anything, the longing for justice in Mr. Ventnor. That old chap should
feel his teeth now. As a piece of investigation it was not so bad--not
so bad at all! He had had a bit of luck, of course,--no, not luck--just
that knack of doing the right thing at the right moment which marks a
real genius for affairs.
But getting into his train to return to Mrs. Ventnor, he thought: 'A
woman like that would have been--!' And he sighed.
2
With a neatly written cheque for fifty pounds in his pocket Bob Pillin
turned in at 23, Millicent Villas on the afternoon after Mr. Ventnor's
visit. Chivalry had won the day. And he rang the bell with an elation
which astonished him, for he knew he was doing a soft thing.
"Mrs. Larne is out, sir; Miss Phyllis is at home."
His heart leaped.
"Oh-h! I'm sorry. I wonder if she'd see me?"
The little maid answered
"I think she's been washin' 'er'air, sir, but it may be dry be now. I'll
see."
Bob Pillin stood stock still beneath the young woman on the wall. He
could scarcely breathe.
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