Half after six. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. Dollis Hill revisited 324 XII. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture. I’ll try to stay as long as I can. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it.
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