It
was not only the particular points that regarded Laurie Baxter--all
these absurd, though disquieting hints about insanity and suicide and
the rest of it--but the principles that old Cathcart declared to be
beneath--those principles which he had, apparently, not confided to
Miss Deronnais. Here was the twentieth century; here was an electric
railway, padded seats, and the _Pall Mall_...! Was further comment
required?
The train began to slow up at Gloucester Road; and old Cathcart
gathered up his umbrella and gloves.
"Then tomorrow," he said, "at the same time?"
Mr. Morton made a resigned gesture.
"But why don't you go and have it out with him yourself?" he asked.
"He would not listen to me--less than ever now. Good night!"
* * * * *
The train slid on again into the darkness; and the lawyer sat for a
moment with pursed lips. Yes, of course the boy was overwrought:
anyone could see that: he had stammered a little--a sure sign. But why
make all this fuss? A week in the country would set him right.
Then he opened the _Pall Mall_ again resolutely.
_Chapter XV_
I
Mr. and Mrs. Nugent were enjoying their holiday exceedingly.
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