I MUST pay off that forty pounds. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. ’ He called through the library door. You have a daughter, no? Madame Ibstock, I think. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage. His face was downcast. “At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. ’ ‘Captain Roding, sir,’ put in Gerald, adding on a jocular note, ‘Another of the green whippersnappers you had to contend with some years back. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal.
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