"
"Craig, then, your nephew--" It was not natural for Chantry to be
perfunctory, and he halted.
For a moment the big rancher was silent. In his lap his fingers met
unconsciously, tip to tip, in the instinctive habit of age.
"I anticipated that," he said wearily. "I realise it's the obvious thing
to do. I never adopted How as I did the girl--I was willing to, but he
didn't see the use--and so Craig's the only man kin I have." The life
and magnetism, usually so noticeable in Landor's great figure, had
vanished. It was merely an old man facing the end who settled listlessly
into his seat. "I had big hopes of the boy. I hadn't seen him since he
was a youngster, and Frances, while she lived, was always bragging about
his doings. That's why I sent for him." Pat, pat went the big fingers in
his lap against each other. "I've always felt that if worst came to
worst the women folks would have someone practical to rely on; but
somehow, when I saw him last night, from what he said and what he didn't
say, from the way he acted and the way he explained--what happened here
last evening--" The speaker caught himself. A trace of the old
shrewdness crept into the grey eyes as he inspected his companion
steadily. "I know How pretty well, and when someone intimates to me that
he is a grand-stand player, or goes out of his way to pick a quarrel, or
meddles with someone else's affairs--" Again the big man caught himself.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119