.. in case... you know you can always come to me...."
Lawyer Royall was waiting for Charity in the porch when she returned
from this visit. He had shaved, and brushed his black coat, and looked a
magnificent monument of a man; at such moments she really admired him.
"Well," he said, "is it settled?"
"Yes, it's settled. I ain't going."
"Not to the Nettleton school?"
"Not anywhere."
He cleared his throat and asked sternly: "Why?"
"I'd rather not," she said, swinging past him on her way to her room.
It was the following week that he brought her up the Crimson Rambler and
its fan from Hepburn. He had never given her anything before.
The next outstanding incident of her life had happened two years later,
when she was seventeen. Lawyer Royall, who hated to go to Nettleton,
had been called there in connection with a case. He still exercised
his profession, though litigation languished in North Dormer and its
outlying hamlets; and for once he had had an opportunity that he could
not afford to refuse.
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