"
If I responded coldly, it was at the thought of my last interview with
poor dear Arthur, and his misprised larynx. But at this moment a wildly
encouraging sign from Dicky reminded me that his interests and not my
own emotions were to be considered.
"We mustn't reproach each other, must we," I said softly. "_I_ don't
bear a particle of malice--really and truly."
Mr. Mafferton cast a glance of alarm at Mr. Dod and Miss Portheris, who
were raptly exchanging views as to the respective merits of a cleek and
a brassey shot given certain peculiar bunkers and a sandy green--as if
two infatuated people talking golf would have ears for anything else!
"Not on any account," he said hurriedly.
"The best quality of friendship sometimes arises out of the most
unfortunate circumstances," I added. The sympathy in my voice was for
Dicky and Isabel.
Mr. Mafferton looked at me expressively and the carriage drew up at the
Catacombs of St. Callistus. Mrs. Portheris was awaiting us by the gate,
however, so in getting out I gave my hand to Dicky.
Inside and outside the gate, how quiet it was.
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