For a moment, Kneebone had hesitated about giving the signal to Shotbolt, but, thinking a more favourable opportunity might occur, he determined not to hazard matters by undue precipitation. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome. A dog appeared unexpectedly upon the threshold. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high.
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