He had no mercy for his action, he could not even use his
customary lenient common sense towards the failings of mankind.
John Derringham had made his peerless one suffer--and his name was
anathema. As far as Cheiron was concerned he was wiped off the list of
beings who count.
Halcyone's delicate sense of obligation had been put at ease by her
stepfather. He had made over to her a few hundreds a year which he said
had belonged to her mother--the simple creature was too ignorant of all
business to be aware whether this was or was not the case. She had grown
to have a certain liking for James Anderton. There was a hard,
level-headed, shrewd honesty about him, keen to drive a bargain--even
the one about her mother to which Priscilla had alluded and to which
they had never made any further reference--but, when once he had gained
his point, he was generous and kind-hearted.
He could not help it that he was not a gentleman, Halcyone thought, and
he did his best for everybody according to his lights.
Her few hundreds a year seemed untold wealth to her who had never had
even a few sixpences for pocket money! But there was always some
instinctive dislike for the thing itself.
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