CHAPTER XIX VERA IS NOT PLEASED
Any stranger looking along the terrace at Ravenspur would have been inclined to envy the lot of those who had their habitation there. It looked so grand, so dignified, so peaceful. Brilliant sunshine shone upon the terrace; against the grey stone of the grand old façade, the emerald green of the lawns rose refreshing to the eyes, those old lawns like velvet that only come with the passing of centuries.
People from the rush and fret of cities, excursionists, who had their sordid, humdrum life in towns, turned longing eyes to Ravenspur. Anybody who lived in a place like that must be happy.
And some of them looked it. Geoffrey, for instance, as he lounged on the terrace with a cigarette between his strong white teeth. He was seated with a cap over his eyes and appeared to be given over to a pleasant reverie. A rod and an empty fishing basket stood by his side.
Ralph Ravenspur lounged up to him. Perhaps he had been waiting for his nephew. At any rate, he always knew where to find him. He sat with the sunshine full upon his sightless eyes and smoked his pipe placidly.
"There is nobody about?" he asked.
"Nobody," Geoffrey replied. "Do you want to say anything to me?"
Ralph made no reply. Geoffrey watched him curiously.
"Do you know you seem to be a long way off to me this afternoon?" he said presently. "I can't quite explain my meaning. Since you have worn those glasses you look a different man. There, now you are yourself again."
Ralph had taken off the glasses for a moment.