Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin.
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