Carlyon said presently.
"I left this window open for you on purpose. The garden does one good
sometimes. You were not lonely, I hope?"
"No," said John Derringham; but he would not look at his old master, for
he knew very well he should see a whimsical sparkle in his eyes.
Mr. Carlyon, of course, must be aware of Halcyone's night wandering
proclivities. And if there had been nothing to conceal John Derringham
would have liked to have sat down now and rhapsodized all about his
darling to his old friend, who adored her, too, and knew and appreciated
all her points. He felt bitterly that Fate had not been as kind to him
as she might have been. However, there was nothing for it, so he turned
the conversation and tried to make himself grow as interested in a
question of foreign policy as he would have been able to be, say, a year
ago. And then he went out for a walk.
And Cheiron sat musing in his chair, as was his habit.
"The magnet of her soul is drawing his," he said to himself. "Well, now
that this has begun to work, we must leave things to Fate."
But he did not guess how passion on the one side and complete love and
trust upon the other were precipitously forcing Fate's hand.
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