It also brought a vision of himself standing before his mother, demurring at possible obligations involved in their 'game of play.' And across the years came back to him her very words, her very look and tone: 'Remember, Roy, it is for always. If she shall ask from you any service, you must not refuse—ever.... By keeping the bracelet you are bound ...'
Wire? Of course he would.
Before the day was out his message was speeding to her: "Engagement off. Coming first possible boat. Yours to command—Roy."
FOOTNOTES:
[40] English mail.
CHAPTER III.
| "Did you not know that people hide their love, |
| Like a flower that seems too precious to be picked?" |
| —Wu-Ti. |
Sanctuary—at last! The garden of his dreams—of the world before the deluge—in the quiet—coloured end of a July evening; the garden vitally inwoven with his fate—since it was responsible for the coming of Joe Bradley and his 'beaky mother.'
Such gardens bear more than trees and flowers and fruit. Human lives and characters are growth of their soil. With the wholesale demolishing of boundaries and hedges, their influence may wane; and it is an influence—like the unobtrusive influence of the gentleman—that human nature, especially English nature, can ill afford to fling away.